


The Lone Mandalorian

by FeeNox1992



Category: The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: BAMF parents, Din Can Use the Force, Din Uses Her Brain & Her Weapons, Din Will Get A Hug, F/M, Fem Mandalorian, Female Din Djarin, Force Ghost Shenanigans, Mandalorian Culture, No One Sane Messes With Mandos, Protective Mandalorians, din needs a hug
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-10
Updated: 2020-11-14
Packaged: 2021-02-27 21:14:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 70,805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22642426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FeeNox1992/pseuds/FeeNox1992
Summary: What if the Mandalorian Din Djarrin was female? What if she had a grudge the size of the parsec for the Empire? What if she never found the covert? What if she was alone? What if Din could use the Force?
Comments: 53
Kudos: 81





	1. Prologue

Prologue: What If?  
What if the Mandalorian Din Djarrin was female? What if she had a grudge the size of the parsec for the Empire? What if she never found the covert? What if she was alone? What if Din could use the Force?

[On some freezing ice block of a planet]  
Beep. Beep. Beep. The sound was a familiar one, she both loved and despised. Loved, the sound was like a heartbeat thumping an echo of another’s lifeforce. Despised, because the other who was on the other end of the echoing link was usually a criminal of varying idiocy. From bail jumpers to murdering fiends. This one a just a stupid bail-jumper that had gotten in over his head and had accidently aided a rapist. That was one of the things about her that made it impossible for her to work with the Guild based out of Nevarro, she asked questions. ‘Know thy enemy’ or in her case ‘Know thy Prey’.   
She walked forward, her mind in many different directions at once, thinking about the guild ‘The Guild may hate me, but they’re not suicidal enough to come after me. Not yet anyway’ … the old hurts ‘Brethren, where are you?’ … the old hates ‘If I see one Imp’ … the old pain… She gave herself a mental shake, ‘Enough’ she thought bringing herself back to the present hunt. An innocent who had committed a crime on accident, who was used by a true monster, and who ran in fear of what awaited them in prison. Beep-beep, beep-beep, beep-beep. She was getting closer. She didn’t need to worry, no need to rush. On this icy and desolate rock, there was only one place he could be. She headed for the cantina.

[Inside the Cantina] ~ POV Change  
The lone Mythrol regretted coming to this sun-forsaken place where a trio of thugs had him by the arms and were going to cut his glands out for money. He hated the human bastard that got him in trouble so he had to run because he had heard tales of what happened to Mythrols in prison. Now he was under the same circumstance. He prayed for this nightmare to end, he just wanted to go home and never leave. He wanted his parents and siblings. He wanted –  
The door to the cantina suddenly opened and the chill gust of wind made everyone turn to look who had come in. The terror he felt for his current circumstances went up. A Mandalorian stood in the doorway. They seemed to pause. Thug Leader as he preferred to call him shouted something at the Mando. At least the knife was away from him. The Mando seemed to ignore him and walked to the bar. Everyone followed their presence. The Mando made it to the bar before the Thug Leader said something else to the Mando.   
Part of him was near gibbering from the fact that there was a Mandalorian in the same room with him and that there was an idiot that apparently been in space with no gravity for a long kriffing time trying to intimidate the Mando. The two Hench Thugs let him go as the trio approached the Mando together. He for his part cowered slightly under the table, his legs trembling from a mix of fear and relief. Thug Leader gets up close and repeats himself. The bartender translates it into Basic “He says you spilled his drink. That’s fine. It’s on me.” He is obviously trying to diffuse the situation. The Thugs are ignoring the bartender and surrounding the Mando; the biggest one growling at them, Thug Leader says something and – this part makes him near evacuate the thorax right there – lays a hand on the Mandalorian.  
As his hand leaves the armor, the Mando turns to the bartender as said-person slides a full tankard at the Thug Leader. What happens next made him glad he didn’t blink. The Mando stopped the mug from reaching the Thug Leader and used it on the two minion thugs; turned punched the smaller of the minions in the face – breaking something, probably the minion’s entire face – duck-turns to the Thug Leader, does some kind of jab move in the shoulder area, seized the wrist of the same arm then – he winces in sympathetic pain – as the Mando dislocates his arm. The Thug Leader screams hoarsely then is knocked out with some kind of chop move to his head. The Big Minion had gone for the door to run. The Mando apparently wasn’t having any of that. They shot out a grapple to wrap around the attempt escapee’s legs and proceeded to drag them back in. The Minion took out a blaster and shot at the Mando. It hit them in the shoulder armor. The Mando twitched, brought out their own blaster and shot at the doorway. It hit the button that closed the door. The Minion screamed and writhed as the door closed on his middle. His bottom half fell to the floor still twitching a little.  
Everyone just stared in somewhat horrified amazement. Some actually looked at the Mando with fear as if they would massacre the whole bar full of people for three idiots. The Mando looked around, then went over to the still live thugs. They rifled them and pulled back with a bag of credits each. One they tossed to the bartender, one they put in one of the pouches.   
He began to breathe a little easier. The Mando might just be making a stop for fuel or supplies or maybe they wanted to get some food they didn’t have to cook or – His thoughts were cut off when the Mando paused again. He found his voice, “Thank you,” the Mando turned towards him, “Thank you very much. You have my heartfelt gratitude,” The Mando stared at him. He started to feel fear creep back onto him. “Hey, you know what? You take my credits. Buy yourself a drink,” As he pushed the credits towards the Mando, they tilted their head. They reached forward and placed a – his heart did a triple-beat – Bounty Puck that flicked on with his face and his name.   
He tried to find someway to say this wasn’t him, he might have even tried to bribe the Mando when the Mando said the first words “I can bring you in warm,” the hand grasped the blaster, “or I can bring you in cold.” He looked up and near teared up from knowing it was over. He was going to dragged back. He didn’t want to go back, but he didn’t want to die either. He had heard stories and warnings. One of them was: Mandalorians do not bluff. Ever.  
[Outside the Cantina]  
As he followed the Mando out, the Mando grabbed the half of the Dead Minion and dragged it over to the other piece of body. He nearly regurgitated when the Mando frisked the body, pulled out everything of value, putting it away in a sack, then proceeded to drag the body with them. He followed meekly behind; he didn’t want to be added to the body count. They came to the spot where an alien was sitting. It rose and said something, the Mando replied in basic “We need passage to the Yards,” the alien played something on a recorder-like instrument. A smooth-yellow land speeder came out of the mist and the droid beeped at them. “No droids,” He thought the words would materialize as ice it was so cold and the droid took the hint. It sped off. The alien seemed surprised and summoned again. This time a human came up in an old busted speeder. “Where to?” He drawled.

They sped along the ice, with the driver checking over and over in the distance for something. “You know what he’s looking for? You’re looking from Ravinaks aren’t you?” He tried to make conversation. The Mando didn’t react, the pilot said “It’s clear right now, but be careful near the port. People dump their grey holds out, think it’s the whole entire planet it their personal stink pit!” He had to shout to heard over the wind and the speeder. He sped over to a ship that looked like it was based off the Razor Crest, a design from before the Empire. “Here we are,” the pilot said.   
The ship looked like it wouldn’t be able to take off. “You’re kidding me, right?” He asked the Mandalorian. “Get out,” was the response to his incredulous question. The Mando hopped out with agility and pulled him out, “I’ll hire us a Livery Cruise. It won’t come out of your end – “, “Shut up,” the Mando seemed to have no patience and he wasn’t going to test it by continuing to talk. He shut up.  
“Hey, it’s time to go. Time to settle up.” The pilot said anxiously. The Mando gave him the money owed for the ride then hesitated. Turning towards the area they had come from, they tilted their head and said to the pilot “You might wait a moment before you head off.” The pilot snorted “I’d stay off the ice if I was you and I’ve got to go home to the Missus.” He turned to drive off and the Mando grappled him out of the speeder. “What the kriffin’ hell Mando?!” the pilot yelled. The Mando grabbed both of us by the shoulder and up to the opened hatch. When did it open? The pilot was swearing an aurora at the Mando while I craned around to look after the speeder. It was almost to the edge of the mist when a roar was heard. The pilot shut up enough to look back and gulp. His speeder had just been engulfed by a Ravinak. We didn’t need the Mando to urge us up the ramp from there. We rushed up ourselves.  
“Stay off the ice! That’s the understatement of the millennium!” I couldn’t help it. I snapped at the pilot who was grey under his parka. The Mando ignored us and simply closed the hatch and lifted slightly off the ground, but didn’t start flying. Both of us were looking at the Mando wondering what they were doing when we saw where they were looking. The ice was cracking, the Ravinak was getting closer. It leaped and the Mando dodged. They managed to let the Razor Crest stay frustratingly out of reach for the monster. The game of hunter-prey continued for several minutes, when the Mando paused. The pilot was praying in some language I didn’t know, shaking worse than I was.  
The Ravinak breeched the ice once more and – I couldn’t describe it. The Mandalorian swerved back and up and fired from one of the antique guns, then the other. The first seemed to be a modified harpoon, while the other was some sort of electric dart that made the Ravinak spasm and scream. The modified harpoon was still attached to the ship and the Mando used it to drag the writhing animal onto the permafrost. The pilot was still shaking but was silent as he stared at the back of the Mando’s head. I didn’t blame him; I was staring too. It is one thing to hear, another to see before your very eyes a legendary hunter.  
The Razor Crest touched down and shut off. The Mando turned to me, grabbed me by the scruff of the collar and forced me to sit down in a chair attached to the wall. The chair had pieces of chains that went immediately to my cuffed appendages. I wasn’t going anywhere. The Mando turned from me to the pilot and grabbed him by the arm and – much more gently than with me – marched him over to the hatch, opened it and marched down it with pilot in tow. I couldn’t see what was going on after that.

POV Change  
Din sighed as she let go of the pilot’s arm. The man collapsed just a couple of feet away from the main hatch, shaking as he saw the dying Ravinak up close. I looked over at it. It was impressive. A full-grown bull Ravinak would fetch a small fortune, just in meat and blubber. The tusks, I considered them. The tusks were ivory, worth even more than the meat and blubber. I thought to myself for a moment. Then turned to the pilot. “Your Missus have a name?” I asked. He started and stuttered a name that sounded like ‘Rena’ though I could have been mistaken. From my belt I pulled a comm-link that I use when I am on-planet anywhere to keep an ear to the ground; making sure I am not in fact stepping into something that I’ll regret stepping in. I broadcast “Is there a Rena – wife of elderly pilot for a beat up old red land speeder – on the wire?” I know it was rude, but it snapped the Pilot out of his shock a little to look at me with an offended look on his face and the answer was almost immediate “What did that husband of mine do now?”  
I looked down at the Pilot, he couldn’t see the raised eyebrows, but he was still blushing a brilliant red. I broadcast “He survived a Ravinak attack and is in need of pick-up,” I pause and said “You might want to bring an official with you and appropriate forms for a claiming.” The pause was lengthy then the same woman’s voice said with a dose of frightened relief “Be right there!” and a man’s unctuous voice came through “Seconded. I presume that everyone knows how things are done around here.” I ignored the rest because if I didn’t, I might have told the man to shut up. I waited. The pilot was getting to his feet when we heard the speeders coming our way. One was manned by a droid. The other by a woman around the same age as the pilot with two little bundles of fur huddled in back. ‘So, both the parents are pilots for the speeders,’ I thought to myself as both speeders pulled up. The woman and the two bundles jumped out and ran for the Pilot, while a Quarren came out of the droid powered speeder.  
They all seemed to gape at the now dead Ravinak and then when they pulled their eyes away from the dead monster, gaped at me. She rolled her eyes at this silliness and went over to the dead animal itself. The Pilot was on his feet and had collided with his family, hugging them for all they were worth. The Quarren seemed to shake himself out of his shock to come over to where I was inspecting the tusks. I planned to take one of the big ones and four of the smaller ones. As I got to work removing the tusks, the Quarren – the second one I dealt with today, the other in two pieces on the lower deck of my ship – came over to me. He blathered on for two minutes before I got sick of it, wheeled and said “One of big tusks and four of the smaller ones are mine. I claim them as trophies of the hunt. The rest will go to the Pilot and his family. You’ll do as you are supposed to or I am going to add another body to the tally today.” At least that got him to shut up and go away. It took another ten minutes to wrench/cut the tusks I wanted out of the jawbone. The big one was just a little under double my height. The rest I left beside it and only then did I turn to the others in the group.  
The Pilot was talking to the Quarren with one arm around his wife and the other wrapped around his tallest child. I looked and saw the smallest was clinging to their father’s leg. A pang entered my chest before I smothered it. I picked up the small tusks and carried them up the hatch and laid them down on the deck beside the dead Quarren. The bounty was staring at me, his eyes wide and almost bulging. I smirked under the helmet, turned and went to retrieve the big tusk. The group was still talking, but now it looked like the pilot was signing a few things. The tusk was balanced on my shoulder with the tip dragging behind me. I took a deep breath. This thing was damn heavy. I was halfway up the ramp when I heard someone yell. I ignored it until I had set the tusk onto the deck so that I could close the hatch. As I was setting it down, I felt vibrations on the ramp. I turned with a swiftness that seemed to startle the children, who flinched back and stood fidgeting while looking anywhere but back and at me.  
The woman shouted in surprise and started making apologies for her children’s lack of manners while rushing over to us. I looked at her, looked at the kids and then reached into my pouch. The Pilot, the Quarren, the woman and the kids, heck even the bounty froze, staring at me. I pulled out two smaller bundles and held them out to the children. No one moved. I sighed and walked down to where they were and bent down and offered the bundles again. “Don’t worry. They are only off-world sweets.”  
The Children hesitated once more and then took the bundles gently from me. They ran back to their mother as I nodded and turned to go. “Thank you, Mando!” I didn’t turn back; I just closed the hatch and went up to the cockpit. I disengaged the modified harpoon from the Ravinak corpse and prepared for lift off.

POV Change {Pilot}  
He stared at the Mandalorian who had been his last customer. The Mando had cost him his speeder and saved his life. Then if that wasn’t enough, the Mando then gave him almost an entire Ravinak to sell and had said something to make the Quarren bureaucrat actually help and not try to swindle them out of any of the profit to come. He almost had had a heart attack when his kids approached the legend and the legend whipped around and seemed to loom over the kids like he was ready to do – something. The wind whipped about the Mandalorian as he pulled something from his belt. My heart froze. Had the kids done something to make the Mando angry? Or –   
My thoughts fractured and froze as my heart thawed enough to pound wildly. The Mando had walked down the ramp, bent down to my kids’ height and offered the bundles again. He might have said something to them but it was lost to the wind. The kids took them and ran back to their mother. The Mando straightened and turned back to enter his ship. My eldest called out “Thank you, Mando!”, but the Mandalorian didn’t turn back. The hatch closed and moments later the ship lifted off.  
The kids and my Missus came back to me. The Quarren had left already with his copy of the Claiming, while mine had been stuffed into my Parka before I knew the kids has approached the Mando. The kids were being scolded by their Ma as we all went to Her speeder. They opened the bundles. Candy. The Mandalorian had given my kids a variety of Candies from what looked like all over the galaxy. As my Missus drove us back home, I looked up to the sky where I could barley make out the ship that carried the legend away with his bounty.  
‘Thank you, Mandalorian,’ I thought as we neared the house, ‘You saved my life, made it so my family can move somewhere better. Wherever you end up, I hope you free and well.’ 

POV Change {Din Djarrin}  
She let out a deep sigh as she left the atmosphere of the ice planet and set a course for the closest Hub. She wanted the bounties off her ship. The idiotic Mythrol bail-jumper was now sniffling in the lower level deck. She set the auto-control on with an alarm for when the journey was about to end. Then she climbed down the hatch to the newest bounty.

POV Change {Mythrol Bounty}  
I turned as far as I could to see the Mandalorian come down the hatch again and turn to look at me. I wanted to dry my eyes, but who was I kidding? He could see the tears on my face…  
“You shouldn’t have run.” That statement made me look up, look at the Mandalorian. “What?” I was not understanding.  
“You shouldn’t have run.” The Mandalorian repeated and then handed me something. I looked at it. It was a court case on a data-pad. Startled I read it. “The only reason why you are a bounty is because you jumped bail,” the Mandalorian continued “You’re lucky I read reports or you would have been brought in cold.” I sweated, he sounded like he meant it. The Mandalorian went over to the body of the dead thug and ran a device over him. It beeped and showed him something that made him grunt. He put the device away on his belt, took the two pieces of body and shoved them unceremoniously into a niche. I froze as a saw the remains freeze in carbonite. I trembled as I saw the Mandalorian put the slab on a rack at the end of the deck that looked like a collection of carbonite slabs. When that was done, he returned and rummage through a cabinet on the opposite side of the deck from me.  
It took me a moment to realize they were cooking something. It was mouth watering whatever it was. Soup, I would have guessed. They placed it into two bowls and turned to me. “Behave,” I nodded.  
The Mandalorian looked at me then pressed a series of buttons. A table unfolded from the deck beside me and the chair I was on swiveled to face it. I was startled. The Razor Crest must have been modified extensively to have this kind of tech on it. “Here,” I startled when the cuffs on my hands split so my hands could move independently of one another and a bowl of soup was placed in front of me. It had a spoon and a chunk of what looked like a bread of some sort. I looked at it in puzzlement when a slightly luminescent blue-green drink was placed beside it. I looked at the Mandalorian in sheer wonderment.  
He sighed through his helmet and said “Eat, you idiot fledgling. The most a bail jumper like you gets is a fine and community service. The rumors you have heard about are true, but only in permanent prisons, where you are sent for life. The courts found you innocent of knowingly assisting the rapist, so you don’t have to worry about that. It is another six hours from the next destination. Eat, evacuate if you must,” He pointed to a door that opened to reveal a primitive vac-tube and sonic shower enclosure just three feet away from his chair. “And sleep if you can. The chain is long enough for you get up and walk around but I would advise against doing anything stupid. If you misbehave on this ship, you’ll be returned to your family in several pieces. Frozen in carbonite for added measure.”  
I nodded vigorously. The Mandalorian looked at him, nodded then cleaned up. He took the second bowl and poured its contents into a pouch and went back up the hatch with it. I assume for his own consumption. I looked at the meal. My stomach growled. Now that the fear of prison and the fear of what came from such a place was gone, I was ravenous. I ate.  
The soup was spicy, but so good. It warmed me down to the bones and left me feeling fuller than I was expecting for a soup. The bread turned out to be a kind of cake with spices and fruits that made flavors explode on my taste buds. I took a sip of the glowing blue-green drink. It was partly alcoholic, but just enough to have a kick in the back of the throat but no more. It was all good and the news that the Mandalorian had given me, made everything that much more delicious.  
The meal was done and I wondered where to put the dishes. I saw a sink by the cupboards the food had been brought from. I got up, half thinking that the chains on my wrists wouldn’t let me go that far but they did. I washed the cup and bowl and even dried them. I did use the facilities to evacuate and went back to the chair. The chair after fiddling a bit with the controls, actually reclined and the table folded back onto the wall. I reclined back and after everything that had happened in a short while, the adrenaline rush stopped and all I knew was peaceful sleep.

POV Change {Din Djarrin}  
There, the bounty was out from the drug in the drink so he won’t put up a fuss. He’ll be nice and dazed for when I shove him off with the authorities who, once everything was said and done at the trial, will make it an almost slap on the wrist punishment and be quite apologetic for trying to throw the galactic-sized book at him. I despise those kinds of prosecutors almost as much as I despise the criminals who actually do the crimes they are sentenced for.   
The Mythrol was now snoring slightly. I know that the chain makes it so that the Mythrol can’t come up here but I would rather be over cautious than not cautious enough. I blacked out the windows and took off my helmet. My hair, braided and pinned felt greasy. I grimaced. Being under a helmet all the time did not help keep hair healthy and I happened to like my hair. I took out the pouch of soup and put extra pepper seeds in to add spice. I know most races can’t stand the stronger of Mandalorian foods so in cases like this where the bounty couldn’t be frozen in carbonite – or at least didn’t deserve to be – I make a less spicy dish and spice it up more for my own portion. Saves the good stuff for those who would appreciate it. She mentally chuckled to herself. It sounded like a snobbish Inner Core lady.  
When the soup was done, she put the helmet back on and went back down the ladder to the deck where the Mythrol was now snoring away. She looked at the silent alarm on the side of the cabinet by the gun safe. Three hours left. Enough time for cleaning the equipment locked away from prying eyes.  
[Five Hours Later]  
She had finished cleaning the equipment and had even started a new project of hers when the alarms had sounded for the final approach. She had climbed back into the cockpit and made the necessary maneuvers to land. Din then went and shook the Mythrol awake. He started as she reattached the cuffs together and the chains disengaged from the cuffs when she pushed the proper button on the panel in her vambrace.   
She helped him off the chair and pushed him towards the opening hatch. He was breathing a little raggedly and still looking dazed from being woken up so roughly. He walked down with her behind him with a hand on her blaster. She was always on the look out for someone who wanted to be stupid and take her on.   
The official who was a part of this arrangement between the New Republic and her was waiting with a wide grin. A family of Mythrols were waiting just behind him with hopeful expressions. The official walked up to them and began to recite who the bounty was, what he had been charged with, the verdict and the punishment. Din Djarrin tuned most of it out listening only to the pertinent information while scanning the crowd even further behind the group of Mythrols. She had landed on the outskirts as usual for her. She never landed in a populated area if she could help it. People tended to leave the ships docked out here for the Jawas to steal from. She smirked to herself. The Jawas knew her and her ship and knew that if they didn’t steal from her and instead fixed her ship to have the best and most unpredictable bag of tricks up her proverbial sleeve, she would in turn give them amazing things to trade, some ideas to work out for better trade from others, help out if they had a problem with some competitors who didn’t play fair and she wouldn’t disintegrate them. The Jawas knew she was very territorial and didn’t want to be on the receiving end of her fury. They’d rather point it at someone else and watch with a bunch of snacks to munch on.  
She dragged her thoughts away from her thoughts of the Jawas in time to have the official ceremonially take the cuffs off the bounty and let him go to his family. They were all hugging him and crowding around him. She turned to the official who looked back at her with some nervousness. Nervousness?  
“I am sorry to say, Mando. But this is the last bounty we have for you. New laws have been put into place,” he glanced around and came closer, “I shouldn’t tell you this, but it wouldn’t be fair not to.” He looked around again and whispered “The Bounty Hunters Guild put pressure on the New Republican Senate and made it so that freelancing is looked down on as well,” he shrugged and said, “as well as Imp – “he jerked back as my helmet faced him with sudden intensity. He might not have been able to seen it, but he felt my glare. ‘Kriffing Greef Karga’.


	2. Chapter One: The Drop Off & Trade Off:

Recap:  
He looked around again and whispered “The Bounty Hunters Guild put pressure on the New Republican Senate and made it so that freelancing is looked down on as well,” he shrugged and said, “as well as Imp – “he jerked back as my helmet faced him with sudden intensity. He might not have been able to seen it, but he felt my glare. ‘Kriffing Greef Karga’ 

POV of Din Djarrin  
I felt like I was going to combust for a moment in sheer irritation and exasperation at such fecking gall. “How?” I asked. The official stepped back like I was a feral animal with bared fangs. The official gulped and said in a stutteringly high voice “Uh, there is evidence of Imperial remnants recruiting among free-lancing mercenaries. The guild’s representative brought it before the New Republic Senate and pitched a well enough set of points and even brought in a witness freelance bounty hunter that worked for the Imperial remnant. The bounty hunter was found a few days later, or rather pieces of him were found,” the official grimaced queasily.  
I thought about it for a moment. There could be dozens of reasons why the freelancer died, but the presentation and all … I came back to myself, and gave the official a slight nod, “Anything else you know about this?”  
The official shook his head sadly, “No and I am sorry Mando, I truly am. Everyone who knows you. Or at least,” here he quirked his lips in a shadow of a smirk, “everyone who thinks, knows you would rather shoot an Imp than work with one. If we could, those of us who trust you would like to have you instated as a consulting bounty hunter and investigator – “I interrupted him with, “That would not work. You know it and I know it. But that is fine. If the Bounty Hunters Guild wants all freelancers to join that badly, something is up.” I glance at him in time to see his startled blink. He starts to say something when I continue, “This maneuver on the part of the Guild smells odd and not in a good way. To start with trying to gather in everyone is going to be herding a bunch of Mudhorns with a vibroblade and a hangover. Now either this is a power play among the Bounty Hunters by the Guild, saying that they can make it illegal for anyone else to hunt down bounties and make it stick by the New Republic, or someone else is using the guild as a way to check, track and use the Bounty Hunters for their own purposes or both.” I look back at him after another scan of the crowd to see the official gawking at me. I tilted my head slightly in inquiry.  
The official shook his head with admiration and said in low voice “You have just learned about this and already you deduced that.” He straightened a little more when I shifted to look at him straight. “This will be my last bounty that I will accept for pay with credits,” I said slowly, “There are a few bounties, however, frozen in carbonite in my hold now that I had already accepted from the New Republic and an open bounty that I will trade for information, specifically any and all information on Imperials.” I smirk at his startled look. “Ugh, I am sure I can manage that last request. Just give a few days to make sure it is everything we have on the Imps. Meanwhile, we will see the bounties.” With that, he went to go up the hatch to where the bounties were. I scanned the crowds a final time and went to follow. “Wait!”  
We both turn to face the Mythrol I had dropped off break from his family and stop a few feet away. I tilted my head at him which he took as permission to speak. “I do not know how to say thank you enough, but if you ever need anything, please,” he took a deep breath, “Please,” he repeated, “do not hesitate. Just ask and I will do anything within my power to help.” He ducked his head bashfully and rushed back to his family.  
I nodded to them and turned to walk back up the hatch. The official had the scanner from his holster and was scanning the third bounty. A data-pad with the information detailing the bounty scrolling on it with another data-pad beside it saying how much I had earned on this stop. I glanced at it. ‘Three-hundred thousand,’ I read as I glanced towards the official, ‘only the third one. Still six more to go.’ That was my routine usually. Grab a dozen or so bounties at one time and hunt. If pressed for funds – which had not happened since I manage money well and have ways of getting money in near every system from the Core to the Outer Rims – I would have returned early and deposited the ones I had found and go out again. The official – I never ask names, so they can’t ask for mine politely – is now scanning the third to last.  
My thoughts turn dark as I think about the funds stashed away all over the galaxy. It should have been going to a covert with a bunch of ad’ika running underfoot. But I never could find them. By the time I found whispers of a fellow Mandalorian, they are long gone. I hope I will eventually catch up to them. But I know why they are in hiding so well. It is after all, a reason I stay on the move. We know that just because the Empire is gone, that doesn’t mean Imperial remnants are not out there still, biding their time to reemerge and overtake the fledgling New Republic. Not that I completely trust said-Republic either.  
The official is done, I glance at the data-pad. ‘One-million and two-hundred thousand,’ Then again, this last run has comprised of a mass-rapist, three high-profile former-Imps that somehow managed to escape prison, a serial killer who had conned and killed four New Republic Senators and then went on to kill the entire immediate family – whose extended family promised a big reward for who could catch the kriffing slimeball – and even a handful of assassins that worked mostly Imperial jobs, but had switched to Core-gangsters when it fell. The only innocent one of the whole lot was the last one, the bail-jumper. The Quarren on the last ice-rock was a lucky find. An embezzler who had made off with about three-hundred thousand credits – that was a big one that someone was going to hate me for. ‘But then,’ I snorted to myself as I saw the official going through the process of placing the credits into one of my Core-accounts, ‘Near every bounty hunter and mercenary worth their pucks knows me. Near all of them I am sure cannot stand to hear Mandalorian or the nickname the New Republic refers to me as.’ I started “Do not put the embezzler into that account,” he turned startled at me, I continued “I can afford to be charitable. Use that reward to grease the wheels to get the information on the Imperials faster. If there is anything else left over, give it to your favorite charity or save it for a harsher time.” He looked at me with open wonder in his expression.  
“Never have I even heard, let alone met another bounty hunter like you. Giving away such an amount of credits for information. And saying that I should just give it away or keep it,” he shook his head in admiration. “Would that other people thought like you do.” I remained silent. He looked at me, shook his head and made the transactions. “I will see about greasing those wheels. In the meantime,” he gestures to the hatch, “I will call the other officials of the Hub to have this trash unloaded.” I nod as I let him leave the ship before me. He was already on a commlink talking into it. The crowd had dispersed almost completely. No one sane really wants to aggravate a Mandalorian. Well, no one sober.  
I notice one group of beings lingering in the corner where shadows made deep pools against the blistering sun. It was a trio of Jawas. I approached and said “[Greetings.]” With as much practice as I have with negotiating with the little people, I am almost as fluent as I am in Mando’a. The Jawas bowed in respect and says “[We saw you land. Anything new to trade?]” I nodded. “[I will trade a very large Ravinak Tusk, a brace of eggs from different species, and four bolts of my DuraSteel-Silk for working on making the Hyperdrive more efficient and a general look over for any parts that need replacing.]” The Jawa got very excited. I saw in the corner of my visor, the group of New Republic flunkies following the official onboard the Razor Crest and beginning to unload the bounties. The Jawa talks on their own commlink and I hear excited chatter of Jawas discussing the trade-off. The tusk – the big one – will keep my things where they are, the eggs for the Hyperdrive and the Bolts of specialize cloth will see to the repairing and replacing of parts and keep the Jawas wanting to keep up good relations with me.  
Why others did not try this is beyond me. No matter what could be said about the Jawas, they never broke a contract. This contract with me was actually a record of the longest one outside of their own kind that has ever existed. And they wanted to keep it badly. After all, I treated them with respect so long as they did the same. “[No pesky competitors playing Imp that I should know about?]” They all looked up at me and shook their head vigorously at the same time. I nodded as I turned away from them and went back to my ship. The group with my former load was coming down the hatch with each one. The newest one I would guess looking a little green. I walked past them noticing he had the Quarren. Mischievously, I drawled, “Let that be a lesson to all: what happens when you pull a blaster on a Mandalorian.” The only one in the group that did not twitch was the official who talked to me the most who was bringing up the rear with the con artist serial killer. A steel-haired fellow who looked at me with a smirk and said to the group in general, “Aye, let it be a lesson no one hear has to learn the hard way,” nodding to me, continued “Don’t mind Ghost though. No one here is that stupid or suicidal to get on the wrong end of one of their hunts.”  
As I pass the slab of carbonite he is pushing, he murmured, quietly enough I barely heard him, “It is a stupid thing the Guild is pulling, but what can you do?” I tilted my head as I paused and murmured back, “Do you really want that answered honestly?” He snorted and looked at me with amusement and then shook his head. “Don’t need you to say anything,” he said as he glanced significantly down at the slab, “I’ve seen bounties you brought back that you got mad with.”  
I go up into my lower level deck and open one of my many hidden storage spaces. I grab my tent supplies, close it; open another and get out a carving specialty kit, close that one. It is all light weight to me, and as I exit the ship again, I see the Jawas’ Crawling Fortress. A pulley system is already set up and the Jawas are approaching the Razor Crest. I rest my supplies next to the small set of tusks and bundle them all, but two of the tusks, together with a red ribbon rope with tasseled ends with embroidered with white and blue Mythosaurs on them. The two I don’t take, I put in the bundle, I lean on the side of the wall. The ribbon lets the Jawas know that all that is coming with me. I climb up to the level where most people see only the cockpit, but has my personal quarters and more storage. From one of the storages, I pull out the bolts of DuraSteel-Silk, all of them in the shimmering blue-green patterns that are highly prized by today’s Inner Rim and Core nobility. The Jawas are not the only ones I trade this with, but when I do, I know that they will get an excellent deal from it and no one has yet to discover who actually is making the clothe. ‘If ever I wish to retire and take up another means of income,’ I think to myself with a smirk, ‘I will just set up shop as a tailor. People would come from the galaxy over to get an outfit from my hand.’ Not that I ever would retire and settle down like an old spinster. I mentally shook away the silly fantasies that would sometimes creep up on me. I put the bolts of fabric in a bantha-leather sack that has the same embroideries on it as the ribbon. That tells the Jawas that the bag is coming back with me.  
I climb down the ladder to see that the Jawas have already taken the be-ribbon supplies and tusks with them. I put the sack over my shoulders and then bend to lift the big tusk from the bottom – thickest part – and as I lift, I hear a Jawa say, “[Where are eggs?!]” I look over at them and say “[They are in the specialized container that has Jawa in Basic on it.]”   
Most of the Jawas go looking for that container, while a pair help me with the big tusk. We carry it out and down the hatch to the Crawling Fortress. I am handing it over when the container marked especially for the Jawas comes hovering out of the Crest, all of them babbling in excitement. I smile with amusement, though no one else can see. The big tusk and the container, along with all but two Jawas go inside their moving facility. The duo gesture me over to the pulley system. As I step on it last, we are pulled up to the top of the Crawling Fortress. We reach the top only for me to see that the Jawas had set up my tent for me. Thanking the ones already there I approach the tent with the sack from my back being taken off and given to the eagerly awaiting Jawas. They open it and eagerly start talking about the bolts. They all dart down into the Fortress, leaving me alone at the summit with my tent. I am glad for some solitude. I go to my tent and close it. Hastily, I take my helmet off and devour a ration bar from my belt pouch and put the helmet back on as I am chewing the last bite. While I trust the Jawas further than I can throw them, they’re not fellow Mandalorians, let alone –   
I sigh as I wrench my thoughts away from the past and open my tent to enter the sunlight again. The Jawas are already working on my ship and a Jawa was walking up to me “[Good so far, working on Hyperdrive soon. Maybe to sunset. No replacements needed.]” I nod, that is half a day away. ‘Thank Mandalore for the built-in stimulants in the ration bar or I would be falling asleep up here.’ I get out my carving set and the two tusks. They are about six feet long each. I looked at them and nodded to myself. I put the first tusk down on its side and sat cross legged nearby and began. An hour had passed by when a Jawa appeared and sat down to watch. They loved watching me do things like this. I never could quite figure out why, but since they never bothered me really unless there was an emergency, I did not mind. With more time passing by, more Jawas came up to watch me silently with snacks including – I saw out of the corner of my eye – some of the eggs I had traded for. From the size, I knew these Jawas were juveniles. It did not bother me still, but as I carved, a few began to shift restlessly. Knowing more about little ones than anyone would guess a Mandalorian would ever care to know, I began to hum. They stilled, watching me with their glowing red eyes from beneath those hoods of theirs. This is when I began to sing.  
Now, I know a lot of people do not know much of Mandalorians. Most think now that they are just a myth, a legend used to scare people. And of the few that know we exist, only a handful know anything at all about us. Most are used to thinking us Imperial scum ourselves and do not seem to remember that we too were victims of purges from the Empire. But it is rare indeed among the rarity that is a Mandalorian, to hear one sing. I think that even these little Jawas knew what a rare event was occurring. I think I even see a recording device or two hidden in sleeves. I just continue to carve and sing softly. It may lose some of it’s ability to come across because of language barriers and the helmet’s setting to the lowest pitch I could manage for my voice, but it still calms the Jawas down. I sing softly to them as I carve the story of the hunt on the tusk. I work in a spiral as I carve. The song I sing is easy enough to sing even when full out running after prey. It has to be, since it is a song of a hunt from long in the misty pasts of Mandalore and was used as a way for foundlings as I was to learn the language and culture of our saviors and adopted family while training our bodies to do everything it could at the limit of said-bodies and push the limits even further.  
The tusk is finished being carved and it at the very tip of the tusk when I see that the sun is starting to set. I glance over the rim of top to see Jawas still working on the Crest. I might be able to carve another portion of tusk. I set the done one to the side and start the second tusk. Singing a new song about the great Mythosaurs as I began to carve this tusk to be an abstract with a pair of Mythosaurs and a pair of Mandalorians holding together the Heart of Mandalore. It is just as detailed as the one where I carved the hunt of the Ravinak on it and parts of the lore and wisdom to be used on such a hunt. I blinked and cleared my throat realizing it has gone dry. I look up to see an adult trio of Jawas standing in front of the littler ones. They silently pointed down, I looked and saw that the last of the Jawas were leaving and coming towards the Crawling Fortress. “[You sing beautifully Ghost Mandalorian,]” one of them said quietly, “[We thank you for keeping little ones entertained. The ship is good, no faulty things anywhere. The Hyperdrive is up to eighty-two percent efficiency. As a thank you for entertaining and keeping the little ones out of trouble, we refueled for you.]” I stand and bow, thanking them. I looked at my tent or rather where the tent was being disassemble by the little Jawas as they chatter quietly enough, I could not make out what they were saying. They packed the tent, while I packed my carving kit up and the bag where I had been putting all the peelings of ivory from the tusks. This I gave to the Jawas. “[Ivory peelings may help polish even scrap for the unwary.]” I said with amusement. The adults laughed and the little ones giggled.  
The tent was handed over to me and I secured it the little ones came up and all caressed the carved pair of tusks. I waited until they all had a turn and only then did; I pick them up and steady them on my shoulder to make my way to the pulley system to let myself down to the ground to go to my ship. The Jawas bade me farewell and I did the same.  
The system lowered me down and I approached my ship. I could not tell the difference in the ship just yet. I would know soon enough, but first refreshment, more food, and sleep. Maybe not in that order. I had just set down the tusks in a storage unit near the very back of the ship, when I hear someone calling for me. I go up to the hatch and look out. There is the official who had seen the Mythrol bounty off and had initially warned me about the new policy for freelancers. He was waving something at me as he raced over. “Hey, Mando,” He gasped for air as he met me at the base of the ramp. He thrust the data-pad he was carrying in my general direction. It was thicker than usual data-pads and as I studied it, I realized why. He must have had to rush this very fast, to get an entire library’s worth of information down into a single data-pad and an attached case of data chips. I looked from the data-pad to the official’s face.  
He had recovered from his run to straighten at my attention. “You said that you would not mind using the bounty from that embezzler to grease the wheels. Turns out, you are pretty famous in some circles. Is it true?” he asked not once taking his eyes off my helmet. “Is it true that you helped the Rebellions against the Empire? That you’re the Ghost?” I thought about it and seeing no reason to lie, nodded curtly. He seemed to hover with awe and said “Well, I told the archivists for the local strongholds that I needed any and all information about the Empire and it’s controllers. There was some hemming about security issues, but when asked questions about who wanted it and when I told them it was a Mandalorian, things got quiet. I was told to come to the nearest one. So, I did. I was asked a great deal about you. I told them I did not know much about you at all. They asked about the hangar you were in, but I told them you always landed on the outskirts. They actually looked up the local surveillance to see you and they caught a snap shot of you talking to us earlier.” He paused here to take a deeper breath, then continued. “They recognized you, well one of them did. Said you used to help out the Rebellion and were nicknamed the Ghost, because – “I interrupted him with a statement of “Yes, I know why they called me the Ghost.” He blushed, “Sorry, anyway, they gave me this,” here he gestured to the data-pad I held, “to give to you free of charge with an apology about not ever mentioning you in official reports.”   
He got a curious look on his face, “I did not know you were a part of the Rebellion.” I shrugged, “I was for a time, but only after I earned the trust of the Rebellion. Fett,” I said with distaste, “sure gave Mandalorians a bad reputation. The worse thing about that is the fact that he was not a true Mandalorian.” I explained to his puzzled look, “He never swore to follow the Creed that all Mandalorians know and live by. Thus, he was not a true Mandalorian.” I look down at the data-pad and looked at the specifics. There was enough data here to start with. I knew that I would have to go to Nevarro and meet with Greef Karga and become part of the Bounty Hunters Guild, before I could take anymore bounties, but that did not mean that I could not take a scenic route and just make a few stops along the way, for rest and relaxation of course. I look up and said “It may be free of charge, but keep the reward for the bounty as I told you earlier. If you must, buy everyone a round of drinks and toast to the end of the Imperials for good and a toast to the health of each other and the true Mandalorians in general. Thank you for the promptness.”  
I turned to go back into my ship. “Wait!” for the second time that day, I halted and turned around at the word. The official was still gasping and sputtered “You are just going to leave like that?” I tilted my head and said “What else is there to say? The bounties are unloaded, the credits and information transferred, thanks have been given on both sides and I have to go to Nevarro and join the Bounty Hunters Guild before I may accept anymore bounties.” I straightened my head and nodded to his startlement, “Until our paths cross.” I finish as I turn and close the hatch. I hear a phrase that sounded remarkably like an echo of my farewell.  
Now, after a few little delays, I could get off this dirt pile and be on my way. I climbed into the cock-pit and started the engines. They purred as they usually did. The Jawas do excellent work, so long as they know you and have a contract with them, I lift off the ground and can see from the visual screens that allow me to monitor the engines and such like from the front seat. I lifted off the planet.

I looked at the data-pad that had been given to me at the last moment and clicked it open to scan if any former Imperial strongholds were on the route to Nevarro. To my satisfaction there was actually two. They were barely a parsec away from Nevarro and apparently one was only a refueling station according to this information and the other a storage depot. I would look into them both on the way. I punched in the coordinates for the station and let the computer do calculations. I looked over more information about the refueling station as the calculations were running. The computer finished before I finished reading, but then I was getting bleary eyed. I needed to sleep, but first, food and refreshment. I started the hyperdrive jump and it was like a dream, it was so smooth. I reminded myself to do something nice for the Jawas to keep the contract running.  
I climbed down the ladder after seeing that it would be another day or so for the Crest to get to the Imperial refueling station. Plenty of time. I ate a small stored container of jerky and cheese, with a meloni-fruit while I walked over to the sonic shower on the lower deck. I stripped out of my clothes and hopped into the shower. It was not as refreshing as a real shower, but it would do for now, so that I did not feel like I went to sleep in a clean bed with a reeking and dirty body. I left the helmet off for this of course. My hair felt like oil was running down the nape of my neck. In a word: disgusting. After the sonic shower, the phrase was: refreshingly clean. My dirty clothes I left in the sonic shower. No one was going to use it for a while, so I did not have to smell dirty clothes in my personal quarters. I would do laundry after a real bath. I walked out bare of anything, but hey who would be watching on a ship with a crew of one in the middle of a hyper-speed jump?  
I put a slow cooker pot on that would cook a lovely stew while I slept. I usually did these kinds of meals on long hunts, stakeouts and the like. But since, I would be sleeping for most of the time and would be ravenous when I did wake up, I knew this was the perfect dish to have. The prep time took about ten minutes with me adding things already prepped and frozen in storage. I simply took the items out of the bags they had been sealed into, put them in the pot. And put the pot in the special oven fixture that had proven to be able to keep my food on a level surface – unless I have to maneuver in a upside down arc of some sort, then I get to clean up the ceiling of the lower deck – and can keep my food warm. I set the specialty valve the Jawas had installed a few years ago at my urging and allowed the heat from the engines to cook the meal and warm up the bed I was wanting to fall into and not come out of for a while. And since I was done with the meal prep and was going to have to wait at least twelve hours for it to be done, I could go find that bed which seemed to sing with a siren’s beautiful croon of hidden bliss.   
I climbed back up the ladder to my personal quarters, which were cozy, enough space to fit a bed, a few storage chests and an armor stand; with my armor in a bag slung over my shoulder. I dug through my chest closest to the bed and got dressed in undergarments and sleeping attire. I did not have enough energy to keep awake much longer. I had just enough energy to set the alarm triggers in case anything happened that needed to be addressed and slipped under the covers. I was asleep between one deep breath and the next.


	3. Chapter Two: The Scenic Route and the Arrival

Chapter Two: The Scenic Route and The Arrival:  
Recap:  
I climbed back up the ladder to my personal quarters, which were cozy, enough space to fit a bed, a few storage chests and an armor stand; with my armor in a bag slung over my shoulder. I dug through my chest closest to the bed and got dressed in undergarments and sleeping attire. I did not have enough energy to keep awake much longer. I had just enough energy to set the alarm triggers in case anything happened that needed to be addressed and slipped under the covers. I was asleep between one deep breath and the next.

Din woke with a soundless scream as she twitched away. She had long ago trained herself to wake up without any indication on whether she was awake or not. That had saved her neck on more than one occasion when she worked hand-in-hand with the Rebellion. She rose silently still with shaking breaths to a sitting position and turned on the lights in her little cabin from where they were set into the headboard of the nest-bed. The dream was foggy and seemed to drift further away from her conscious mind, but it didn’t matter. She knew what it had been about. Din sighed gustily and rose from her bed with a near groan of regret. She glanced at the alarm and saw she was awake about an hour before she needed to be, a good solid eleven hours of sleep, only to be woken up at the last minute by that –  
She cut herself off from her thoughts as they went down a well-worn, but dark path in the past. She didn’t need her dreams to chase her while she was awake. She instead thought about what needed to be done. The first thing was, get out of the sleep clothes and put something a little more – durable – on. The sleep clothes were dropped over the bed and she donned the two-piece body suit first. A body suit that fit loosely, but not flowy. She then put the outer breeches and shirt. These were made out of her own DuraSteel Silk with patterns in red of varying shades shimmering through them. No need to wear greys or lighter colors if she was going to stain them. The last pieces before she turned to the armor lying in a heap were the sleeveless dark gray tunic and the dark gray belt with several little magnetic hooks for different pouches. Magnets were a very underestimated tool.  
Din got out her cleaning materials from their own chest by the armor stand and began to methodically go over her armor pieces. When she was done cleaning and making sure the electronic pieces were intact and working properly, she put them on. The boots were first, DuraSteel painted a dull grey. Din paused and then got up and walked over to the door.  
Exiting the personal quarters to enter the cockpit. The data-pad was still sitting where she had left it before she went to sleep. Picking it up she reentered her quarters and went to the corner, opposite of her armor. There, in said-corner, was a small stand-alone computer that she used to keep her files and recordings from her helmet. She placed the data-pad into an adapted cleaning terminal. The terminal would make sure that only the information placed on the data-pad and the chips were downloaded. Just I case the data-pad or the chips had some added surprise to them like a virus. It wasn’t really paranoia if someone really was out to get her, a Mandalorian would classify it as being practical.  
She typed in the command to read out the information on the two selected targets. They would be downloaded first and read out when completed. Din went back to the armor cleaning. Now she had something to listen to other than the whirling of hyperspace and the purr of the engines. It took about three minutes for the computer to start reading out loud the sections of information on the refueling station and the storage facility. By then all the armor was cleaned and checked. She thought the information over while she put the cleaning supplies away.  
The refueling station was supposed to be a small one, just there in case of emergencies. Had no actual personnel, just robotics and droids. It might have actually been out of power by the time she got there, but she was going to make sure. If nothing else, she could salvage it or find some way to give it to the Jawas. They would work it over and have it in pieces within a standard week. The storage facility might go the same way if there were no personnel are on it. Or she might just blow it to flotsam. They were both located on different moons around the same planet. That got her attention.  
‘Why would that be the case? Is there something about this planet in particular? Or was it something about security? If someone saw one thing, they wouldn’t suspect that the other was there? Was the refueling station deeper space expeditions and the storage facility for parts? Are these two decoys for something else, maybe some other type of installation? What?’ She started putting the rest of the armor on. The last piece to go on was the chest piece. The information was just finishing, winding down about who commanded during what time during Imperial reign. The names meant nothing to her. The ranks though – ‘Not a single big fish in the lot. All petty officers with one commander over all that was a krill-sized fish in the Imperial sea himself.’ That in and of itself was interesting. ‘It actually might still have power. The little fish would be off the grid for the New Republic, they wouldn’t care about them. They would only really care about the high ones like the Moffs and Generals.’ She thought as she turned to exit the room and go down to the lower level where the stew would be near done.  
When she got down to the lower level there was a lovely smell wafting throughout the deck. She opened the hatch and retrieved the slow-cooker that was bubbling softly. Placing it on the counter by the sink, she activated the mechanism that would unfold the table and a bench-like chair not designed for prisoners. She got out a plate and bowl as her stomach registered the food and gave a growl that she swore could be audible over the sounds of engine and hyperspace travel. The utensils were next and a cup of water. She poured the stew from the slow cooker into the bowl and grabbed a slice of spice-fruit cake from the cupboard. Din put the slow cooker into the sink and gave it a slight clean and rinse, filled it up with water and placed it back in the special oven-hatch. She turned the valve for warming up the bed and turned back to the counter.  
Taking up the dishes, including the cup, she went over and sat down at the table. She ate – almost mechanically – as her thoughts drifted to what she intended. Most would say that the Empire is gone and thus her scenic route was a waste of fuel and time. But she was a Mandalorian. She was also very thorough. She wouldn’t believe an enemy was dead until the head was separated from the body and all either burned down to ash or just disintegrated.  
She finished eating and downed the last of the water in the cup as a feeling came over her. She paused from rising and continued to stay seated. She closed her eyes and semi-drifted through her own thoughts. Din knew this kind of feeling; she had had them for most of her life. Someone or something was looking for her. She took a deep breath. Centering herself within what she referred to as ‘mirror diamond’ state, she waited. The searcher seemed to brush past her sense of self with a feeling of frustration. She studied the Searcher. It wasn’t something she wanted finding her that was for certain. Not unless she had a lot of hidden advantages they couldn’t prepare for. It was slightly insane and wholly twisted. It took what felt like a small eternity, but eventually the feeling went away. She waited, slowly easing out of the ‘mirror diamond’ state.  
Din sighed as she looked over at the alarm that said how long it would be before she got to the refueling station. Another ten hours to go. She got up with her dishes and put them all in the sink. Sliding the lid over it, she activated the small sonic system. A little adjusting of systems had allowed her and the Jawas to have this water-saving device that she had patented under a pseudonym. It had given her another source of income that she kept in accounts usually in the Middle Rim. She had sold the patent with a royalties contract to the New Republic through some five intermediaries who never guessed the supposed genius behind the design that every ship and desert-planet wanted installed, was a group comprised of a Mandalorian bounty hunter and Jawas. It gave those in the know – her and the Jawas – some amusement.  
She then went over to the sack and pile of pouches she had taken off when she went to get cleaned up. She picked the pile up and dumped it on the table, sat down and began to do inventory. The pouch that she had taken the sweets out of was set aside. She only carried that one around when she felt like she might encounter children who would need calming down of some sort. The medicinal pouch was looked over and since it was still fully stocked, placed in a separate pile from the candy-pouch. The ammunition for the various weapons she would take on this pleasure excursion were still full, since she hadn’t needed any of them on the last four bounties. The last pouch of hers contained credits for expenses. She wouldn’t need that one where she was going next. She put that one with the candy-pouch. The things that were left were from the idiotic thugs from the cantina. She rubbed her hands together smiling grimly to herself. This was like getting a bunch of surprise presents. She started with the sack that had contained the things she took off the dead embezzler.  
Five pouches full of credits, she would sort that out in a minute. A couple of vibro-knives of semi-good quality, she inspected them. Nothing up to her standards for fighting equipment, but might be good as part of her harvesting kit as spares. She set them aside to put into said-kit. A pouch with data chips. Interesting, she would have to look at those later on. They could contain anything – or nothing. Blank data-chips could be just as useful as full ones. Those she placed by the vibro-knives. There was nothing else except the small blaster. She inspected it as thoroughly as she had the vibro-knives. Again, not up to her usual standards, but it would be a nice surprise to have just in case. She set it aside for adding to her weapons stash. She would have to make a fabricate a hidden holster for that one. It was small enough that she could fit it at the small of her back, where she usually just kept a collection of throwing knives. The blaster could be something she could even modify. With that thought, she began looking through the credit pouches.   
Pretty much a mix of credits, including to her disgusted delight Imperial. She set those aside separate from the other kinds and began to put the non-Imperial credits into pouches. As much as would fit into them. It was about five-thousand credits all told, not including the Imperial ones. That left two empty pouches of semi-good quality. She set them to the side in another pile. She’d put them in storage, either to use herself or trade in for something else at the next bazaar. The Imperial credits she left in their respective pile. That was when she got up.  
Taking the candy- and money- pouches in crook of her left arm, she pressed the button that would show the security scanner. She took the glove off her right hand – pulling it off with her teeth – and pressed it flat to the scanner plate. Scanning took a breath if that, and the light that said she had been scanned blinked green. A commlink popped out from underneath the hand scanner and she spoke the passcode “Mine” into it, taking the glove in her bare hand. The metallic click and bang of the main storage closet opening followed quickly on the heels of the blinking light. The scanner was hidden again and she placed the pouches on their respective holding chests, set into the left side of the closet. She turned to the right and grabbed a sack she used to carry around Imperial credits. She looked into it and estimated that the sack was near half way full. Bringing it over to the table, she swept the pile of Imperial credits into the sack without ceremony. It wasn’t much more, but every little counted.  
She took the sack and the little blaster and placed them in the still open closet. That done, Din looked over at the alarm. Five hours to go. She stretched slightly and closed the secured closet. She went over to the sonic sink which had finished hours ago and put her glove back on. She paused now mentally working on the project she had started before she had set down in the last Hub. A way to maybe add another extra weapon to the Crest and maybe even another partial deck without compromising the engines or costing too much fuel. As she put the dishes away, she thought. ‘I could set down for three months or so it would take to get that extension done by the Jawas. I just need to make sure that I have the parts in hand with me or know where I can get them at a good price. Where would I have the partial deck put? Maybe I should have two partials, smaller maybe and put them in the wings slightly? Move the shield generator to one and the utilities storage to the other? That might balance it out. Have a little more breathing room in the actually engine part to move it back, so I can add another setting to the main guns? What would I put there? I already have a modified harpoon that can pull a Ravinak up, an electric dart that can kill a Ravinak, the old blaster cannon the ship originally came with, and the Stun Pulse that can put a ship in the same weight class or lower than mine in a state of disarray and could even give a few that are greater some trouble. Maybe instead of a weapon, I should add some kind of stealth system, a cloaking device of some sort. How would I go about that? And how would I get the Jawas to help?’  
As she thought she had put up the dishes, put the vibro-knives with her harvesting kit – that was in the same storage closet as her camping supplies, took the data chips and opened up yet another storage unit. It contained a small robotic computer. Not exactly a droid, it was not an intelligent machine, just a super computer with the same kind of set up that Din had in the stand alone in her personal quarters. She neatly and methodically put the data-chips on the insert for the start-up scan for viruses. The computer had enough data storage for her to use for an entire covert if only – she shied from the thought and closed the insert. The now empty pouch went with the other two empty pouches and all three were dropped in an open crate that was bolted down by the cupboards with the sonic sink. Incidentally, right beside the computer’s closet.  
Din typed in the commands for the clean-scanning, downloading of any information, and wiping of the chips. That would take a while. She turned and folded away the table and sat down on the still-extended bench-chair. Still thinking, she put her body in a meditative stance. She looked at the alarm again, not even quarter of an hour had pasted. She closed her eyes and entered a Meditative Rest, where her body could rest and her mind could continue to think about anything and everything…

[the alarm gives the hour warning blare]  
Din hears the alarm go off and states calmly “Heard,” and got off the bench slowly, stretching slightly stiff muscles. She secured the pouches she had left on the bench beside her and rechecked her weapons. She crossed to the ladder that led to the deck and went to her quarters. There she took her hair and began to braid it, starting from the crown. Her hair was just long enough to reach the bottom of her shoulder blades. She stretched her leg muscles as she took the tie for the end of the braid and used it. Pushing the base of the tale back on itself, the end of it came to her forehead. She took a roll of cloth and used it to secure the braid snugly, so it wouldn’t fall out of her helmet. Then she turned to said-helmet. She picked it up and could have sworn she felt the weight of centuries press down on her as she looked at the iconic T-shaped visor. Shaking the errant thought away, she turned it and placed it properly on her head.   
Exiting the personal quarters again, she went to the cockpit. The Hyperspace journey was near the end and she needed to be ready for anything. A little buzzer made her glance at the panel for the Hyperspace controls. Ten seconds it read. A muffled boom was her Razor Crest exiting Hyperspace. She could see the refueling station from here. It looked almost deserted. Almost, because she could see droids still working on the outside of the station. A soft dinging noise let her know that a call was being broadcasted. She opened it. A standard greeting in basic, with a request for stating the purpose of the approach.  
Din lied flatly “Refueling and Maintenance,” and sent it through the comms. A pause and then, “Please be aware that the cost for fuel has gone up. Please be prepared to deposit fifty credits per standard kilogram. If this is acceptable, please dock at Bay Four-Ten.” She sent a still-flat affirmative and steered her Crest to the afore mentioned bay. She pulled in, parked inside, turning off the engines and exited the cockpit.  
Din heard the clank of droids approaching. As the hatch opened, she turned on “Ground Zero Security Protocols”. This was going to be fun.

[An Hour Later] {AN: No there will be no fighting described here, it is only refueling station, not a prison. The droids are only astro-mechs and mechanical ones. There are no security or battle droids here.}  
Okay, maybe it wasn’t really all that fun. Din sighed to herself as she looked at the main control room for the station. It was barely powered; the droids were half-dragging themselves all over and the spare fuel tanks were nearly just fumes. Some of the parts were shoddy things she didn’t think even the Jawas would want. But there were some promise here. She would have to see.  
Looking at the station’s controls, she saw that the station could actually be moved and even enter Hyperspace. That would work perfectly for her. She found the computer console that contained the informational data for the station and typed in the commands to have all data copied onto a spare and removable data chip set. Who knew, there could be other facilities that the Imperials had, that the New Republic weren’t aware of. As that was happening, Din looked around for the station’s communication console, she had just seen it – there!   
She crossed to it and started it up to start recording her message. “[Greetings,]” she started, “[This is the Mandalorian. I have come in possession of this entire refueling station and have no true need of it. I will trade it though. While most of the droids and installations seem to be outdated, I will give it the Jawa Collective to do with it as they wish, with the understanding that they work on a special project for me in the future. If the Collective can’t get any use for the station, please send a Jawa to say so on Nevarro. I will be there by the latest in four standard days.]” Here Din paused to calculate. That gave her plenty of time she thought. She bowed slightly and ended the recording. The Jawas would find it, of that she had no doubt. She also had no doubt that they would find plenty of use for the blasted waste of parts.  
She then went to the informational console and saw it was still downloading onto the data chip block. When she checked the status, she noticed that it was about eighty percent or so done. Din then went over to the Hyperspace console and paused. Tapping her vambrace, she opened up the holodisks’ memory in her helmet. Using her right hand, she began sifting through the information on it, the nearest location to the Jawas was about a standard half day or so by Hyperspace. Convenient. She started up the engines and began the calculations. That took longer than she expected but hey, she wanted it done. The Calculations were complete right about the time the information console beeped for attention.   
Crossing to that, Din saw that the download was complete and the now open segment of data-chip – the thing was equipped with its own anti-grav cart – was ready for transport. She took the remote that would have the thing follow her and stuck it in her pocket. She turned and crossed the control room again and set a timer for the jump to Hyperspace for about an hour and a half. That is when she left the room and went back to the Razor Crest. She hoped that the storage facility was better equipped and maintained. 

[An Hour Later] {AN: I skipped the journey back to the Razor Crest, because all she did was walk back to the Razor Crest, deactivate the “Ground Zero Security Protocols”, and the short journey to the Storage Facility.}  
The moon that the storage facility was on actually had atmosphere, which was good, since she didn’t want to approach it openly. This one, unlike the refueling station, had living personnel. She set the Razor Crest down just out of scanner range of the facility and activated “Ground Security Protocols”. No one but her could get past those doors now. It would be a couple of standard days to hike to get to the Imperial building, but that was if she went on foot. She wouldn’t of course, she wouldn’t need to. Landing so far away would also allow her to have surprise on her side. The terrain was like the forested moon of Endor, plenty of cover. She opened the hatch that contained her own modified speeder bike that was set into the bottom of the left wing. It was an old thing, but still serviceable.   
She mounted the bike and sped off. She had no worry about anyone picking up the sound of the bike nor the comms unit. Din had modified it so that the comm unit was no longer there and had installed a muffler to keep the whine of the bike itself down. Din enjoyed the ride, slaloming through the trees and brush. It was a slight challenge. It took about two hours to get to the bottom of the closest ridge to facility.   
There, she left the bike and hiked to the top of the ridge and hastily climbed one of the medium-sized trees. There she took out her Amban rifle and looked down its scope to study the building. It was a small compound actually. Some dozen buildings from the look of it, with a landing platform on top of the biggest one. That was fine with her. She looked for the personnel or any sign of them. she found a squad of storm trooper, ten strong. Din bared her teeth in a silent snarl.  
Din studied the facility a bit more. No one really moved. If she hadn’t seen the troopers, she could have been excused from thinking that this facility had been abandoned. She holstered her rifle and climbed down from the tree. Jogging back to her bike, she thought up a plan of attack. It was simple enough. Most places like this during the Rebellion had been set out in an efficient way. She would find the barracks and kill any that she could silently. When she no longer couldn’t get any in ambush, a shoot out would commence. When all personnel were dead, she could take her time stripping the place of anything useful.  
The light from the sun of this system was dimming from the sky, when she made her way to the closest building. A patrol of two storm troopers passed by her. Din had to hold herself in check. ‘Don’t kill them yet,’ she reminded herself, ‘You don’t want to raise an alarm.’ She let them pass and waited until they had turned a corner, before she dashed across the open area from the forest cover to a pool of darkness by the entrance of the closest building. She saw the console and pressed the button to open it. The door did and she slunk inside. There were no lights, but she didn’t need them.  
Din put on the night vision with a slight infrared spectrum to help. She slunk along the hallway and looked around. This must be a lucky run, because this was the barracks building. The officer’s quarters were at the farther end of the hallway. She would take care of them in a moment. There was a barracks with what looked like some twenty bodies in it, positioned like they were all asleep. She slipped inside.  
‘It may not seem honorable,’ as she silently went up to each man and slit his throat with a razor-sharp blade, ‘but Imperials have never been ones I will treat with honor.’ It took her only some thirty minutes to do the grizzly work, noticing and counting ten empty cots. She left the room afterwards, the heavy scent of blood following her like a perfume. It made her bloodlust rise, her hunters instinct aroused – not completely mind, just enough – to make the experience that more detailed.  
She crept into the officer’s quarters. The officer was snoring lightly. He was slightly overweight, carrying a paunch around his middle; had a sparse mustache and was balding in an unfortunate way. Din’s lip curled in a sneer of disgust. He got the same treatment as the men he commanded.   
She studied the room as the man died swiftly, not even fully waking to see what caused such pain in his throat. It was sparse, hardly furnished. She left; the smell of blood even stronger. This, she remembered, was one of the reasons why even the Rebels who worked with her the most were scared of her. To them, she was a Mandalorian who had no remorse in killing people and wouldn’t hesitate to kill them either. And in a way, they were right. She didn’t have any remorse in killing an Imp. Not after Sundari. Not after the Purges. And especially not after she saw what they did to her fellow Mandalorians, some not even sworn yet. They did not deserve any mercy after she witnessed that.  
She exited the building and looked over the compound. According to her infrared vision, the two troopers patrolling were the only ones doing that, there another nine heat signatures that pulsed like lifeforms and all were in the same building. The one under the landing platform. Fine with her. She stalked over to building and entered it, deactivating the infrared-night vision as the door started to open.  
A grey-haired man in an officer’s uniform turned towards the door opening and when he spotted her, screamed an alarm. Men, in maintenance uniforms, spun around to stare at the Mandalorian in the doorway, in horror. Well, couldn’t exactly blame them for that, she did have some blood splatters on her from earlier. One bolted for an alarm. He died first, a blaster bolt going straight through his head. The singing of the blaster was counter-pointed by screams of the men as they died. Din entered the building calmly and the door closed automatically. This was the main building alright. She made her way over to the console the officer had been at. From the look of it, it was an inventory report. An explosion was heard, she sighed audibly knowing that the two troopers much have seen her bike and activated the security device. Anyone touching it had to enter a code of pressure points on the grips of the bars themselves. If they didn’t, the bike would overload and blow up.  
Din looked closer; it was an inventory report. Some minor thing about power cells; the report was short saying that they were getting old and would need replacing soon. Din turned off the report and began looking for the real inventory list. It took a few minutes for it to come up and when it did, the smile hidden under her helmet would have scared off a Tusken Raider. This storage facility was a stock pile of munitions, parts for maintaining droids and even a couple of ship pieces like Hyperdrive engines and even raw materials that were not listed as anything but as a set of numbers. The Jawas would love this particular find. She could send a message from the Razor Crest, with list attached to the message. Some of this would have a Jawa ship here in no time. She heard the approach of the last two troopers at the run. Apparently, one of the troopers had survived the bike’s explosion. She wheeled around as the door opened, and shot the last trooper through the plexi-armor that covered their torsos. They fell to the ground dead as she sent out a hidden signal to the Crest.  
One of the more recent modifications to the Razor Crest, she and the Jawas had done, was make it so that the autopilot would actually take off by itself and home in on her location. Din was so pleased with herself, but she quickly squashed the feeling down. She would have to remain vigilant, there would be security protocols to make it so that the Imps could keep the items secure right?  
As the Crest landed some ten minutes later, Din Djarrin could have gagged from sheer disgust at the shoddy way the security had been put into place. She had heard of bakers with better security than this. Her head shaking, she went over to the stairwell, and climbed to the landing platform. The Crest landed on it and the hatch automatically opened. Some people would say that that was a security risk and for some it was. No one but her and the Jawas knew that if anyone who entered the ship with the Ground Security Protocols in place – with the exception of herself of course – the near invisible laser net would cut them into dewback fodder. She went to the hatch, climbed aboard and made her way to the ladder. She entered the cockpit and opened up comms and broadcasted to the Jawa Collective. They would have received the refueling station and found her first message by now.  
“[Greetings,]” she started, “[This is the Mandalorian. I have come in possession of another former Imperial facility, this one for storage and have no true need of it either. I will trade its contents though. There is a list of inventories attached to this message along with coordinates. The only things that I will have any true interest in it the raw materials. I will be looking over that while I wait for your arrival. With regards to the understanding that the Jawa Collective work on the special project for me that I already mentioned in a past transmission, if there is any interest in the job, either express it in the reply message or with a Jawa delegation on the already named planet and time.]” Din sent it off. She didn’t have to wait long. Not ten minutes later, a message came through. Opened, it showed a Jawa. “[You have been busy, Ghost. We will indeed work on special project with you in future. There will be four ships of Jawa coming to your location. We will send Jawa to planet later. Good business.]”   
She chuckled at the little creature’s attitude, as she turned off the comms and left the Crest again. Din climbed down the stairwell that led to the building beneath the landing platform and looked at the inventory again. The raw materials were placed in a separate building, alone from everything else. Din went to the console that was near identical to the information console on the refueling station. Turned out the thing was the information console, so she decided to do the exact thing and had the computer download everything to a mobile data-chip block. The download was slow. Din calculated that the thing would take a while. She decided to look at the raw materials.   
The way was still shrouded in darkness, of course. She turned the night vision back on and walked over to the marked building. It was the small enough size that the Crest wouldn’t have been able to put all three landing stabilizers on it. She entered it and looked at the containers. They had numbers on them that corresponded with the inventory list. A mental shrug and sigh later, Din started opening the containers. There was plenty of raw material that she and the Jawas could use to make any number of things, but the thing that really caught her attention and made her mentally praise her ancestors for the luck on this run was nearly overlooked because it was shoved in the far corner. It was a trio of camtono containers that were stacked behind some bigger containers full of glass panels, in the farthest corner of the building.  
It contained Beskar Steel. Those three camtono containers were gathered up in near worshipful reverence and placed with dignity on the anti-grav cart that was just inside the building’s entrance. A container of Dura-Steel ingots was added to the load. This is all she would take with her. The remote for the cart was in her pocket and a near song of victory in her heart, she strode back into the night. She had just loaded the camtono containers on board the Crest, when she saw the Jawa ships coming in. She loaded the Dura-Steel ingots and went down to get the data-chip block from the information console. As she got it and switched out the remotes, she could hear the excited chatter of several Jawas. She ignored the hub-bub for the time being as she climbed back up to the Crest. Din stored the data-chip block with the one she took from the refueling station and then she went back down to the platform only to find a duo of Jawas rushing up the stairs babbling excitedly. They saw her, rushed over, still babbling. “[Mando good! Mando good business!]” They were so excited that they were speaking brokenly.  
Din Djarrin chuckled and bowed, spoke “[I have taken what I wish for my own. Everything else you may have in exchange for the future project. I will let you get to your work; I will meet with whomever is sent by you on Nevarro. I have to be on my way.]” The Jawas bowed and babbled excitedly as they left to go back towards the now organized lines of Jawas having anti-grav carts full of containers rushing towards the ships. Din estimated that the Jawas would have this place emptied inside of two standard days at the rate they were going.  
She went back up the hatch, again deactivated the night-infrared vision as she climbed. Closing the hatch and getting the Security Protocols deactivated as she walked to the ladder and ascended. She got in the cockpit and started the lift off.  
Din left the moon with a sense of smug satisfaction. Two Imperial facilities gone. They might have been insignificant but then they might not have been. She would take the data on the data-chip blocks and double check. See if there was anything else in this system and return if there was. She put in the coordinates for going to Nevarro. That would take about three hours. Enough for a meal, a bath, laundry to be taken care of, checking the data-chips from the dead embezzler and start writing up the contract that she would try to get Greef Karga to agree to and sign off on. That shouldn’t be too difficult. Din would find a way to stay as freelance as possible though. If she hurried, she might even squeeze some Resting Meditation or be able to have practice in using her hidden trump card.  
She set the calculations for the jump to Hyperspace and made the jump. When that was done, autopilot took control. Since the alarm would give her a ten-minute warning when it was about to leave Hyperspace, she got up from the pilot’s chair and went down to the lower deck. There, she started the small oven’s stove top and pulled out a small carbonite slab from an overhead cupboard. She didn’t know why no one had thought of this but you could preserve food in carbonite. Din used it for perishable food that didn’t take to regular freezing too well. And for when she found an exceptional bargain on different kinds of rations and bought in bulk. She would carbon freeze the extra not needed in a certain amount of time and keep most of these slabs in the last storage container on this deck. That included certain vegetables and fruits. The oven was heated to the proper temperature as she put the already cubed frozen meat inside with a few slices of a slightly acidic fruit in with a chopped herb mixture for flavoring. Taking the water from the slow cooker that was boiling now, she added a couple of ladle’s worth to the pan with the food. The rest she kept in the pot for cleaning the blood off her armor later. She took off her helmet now and removed the clothe holding the braid in place off. As she set it aside on the counter by the food, she took out a plate and made a thick bed of various greens for a salad and put it beside the stove top where the meat was coming along nicely.  
Din went now over to the two data-chip blocks she had taken from the Imperials. She had left them in their anti-grav crates by the computer closet. She opened that now and checked the status of the data-chips from the dead embezzler. They were clean, wiped of any information and ready for reuse. Fine with her, she took the pouch they had originally been in and put them into it. She put that now-full pouch on her belt for now. They would probably sell for some credits on Nevarro. Then Din took the connecting cables from the data-chip blocks and put both on the cleaning sector for the computer. The computer hummed as it started the process all over again. The time that it would take was estimated to be a complete standard week. Her eyebrows rose. That much information on some out of the way little facilities like that meant that they had been important in some form or fashion. She would have to read about it later. She sighed. What she would give to have a team or even a partner that she could trust – Stop, there was no point in ‘if only’ wishes. They never came to any good.   
Her thoughts turned brighter as she remembered the camtono containers stuffed with Beskar Steel. There was enough Beskar there to make an entirely new set of armor and even make her a new Beskar-Steel Silk outfit and maybe have some left over. She would have to double check, but she thought that she had enough wiring and silk to fabricate the outfit that blazed in her mind. With that on her mind she gave an absentminded stir to the meat, which was still coming along nicely. She took a sniff and estimated there was enough time to start the hot water slowly running into the tub in the upper deck. So, she went and did just that. She returned with a cleaning rag down to the deck where the food cooked away; she looked down and sighed. For a moment she had forgotten the blood splatters until she had passed the mirror set in the bathroom on the upper level. She took off the armor and the outer layer of clothes. Now just in her body suit and socks, she padded over to the meat that could be done. She cut one of the cubes and tested its temperature. While still red it was hot enough to be safe for consumption. She turned off the stove-top and allowed the water – now much lower level from boiling away – to stop bubbling.  
Din took the slow cooker with the slightly hot sides now over to her armor. The clothe she had brought down was dipped into the water to wipe away the blood splatters. It was easy enough. The red outfit would have to go into the sonic shower with the other day’s outfit. The blood splatters were mostly on her upper armor. She had been amazed that no one had woken up from earlier. They must have been heavy sleepers or they might not have sensitive enough noses at first or a combination of both reasons. She shrugged out of those thoughts. She wiped away the splatters and let the armor dry.  
Getting up and getting the meat portion of her meal, she placed it on the bed of greens. She put the herb-acidic fruit mess in the garbage chute where it would go down to the grey hold and be compressed there. She tossed the now done with pan and ladle into the sink for later. Taking the plate and the fork she had used to get the meat out of the pan with, she went over to the bench-chair and ate neatly and quickly. Glancing at the timer, she realized that a whole hour had come and gone. Fifteen minutes later, she was done with her meal. Some people would ogle that she could eat so fast, but as a Mandalorian she had usually be quick with consumption. It was one of the few times a Mando had to take off their helmet. It was just habit for her now after so many years. Almost a decade had passed since the Great Purge had happened, only two years since the Fall of the Empire.  
Her thoughts took a dark turn as she thought about those years. She remembered so many horrible things that made her want to be sick, before she told herself firmly to stop before she made herself physically ill. She picked up her now finished with plate and fork and put them in the sink. Started its sonic function as she again glanced at the alarm again. She had an hour and a half left. The water should have filled up the tub by now and automatically shut off by now. She stripped down to her bare skin again as she took both layers of garments and took them into the sonic shower part of the primitive bathroom on this deck. There she opened the small container that held her laundry supplies.  
The first thing she took out was an extendable pole that could reach from one end of the sonic shower to the other. Then the collapsible set of hangers for the clothes came next. She put each outfit on the hangers and set them on the pole quickly. Done, she tossed in an incense block that would act like a mix of detergent and no-scent perfume; closed the hatch and started the laundry cycle. That would take about double the time it took to clean the dishes. But hey, it saved on water and used less energy from the power cells than running a usual laundry facility.  
That chore done, she walked back out and climbed to the bathroom on the upper deck. Just as she had expected the water was at a level where the sensor said to stop at and was steaming slightly. It looked like a gift from the ancestors. She slowly dipped in, hissing as the hot water lapped over her body. She let the water ease muscles and that was when she remembered the fact that she had forgotten to grab a data-pad and an attached comm so she could dictate the terms for the contract that she wanted Karga and by extension the Bounty Hunters Guild to sign. Well, she had wanted to practice with her hidden trump card.  
Leaning back into the embrace of the tub, she closed her eyes and concentrated. She knew where the blasted data-pad was. After so many years on this ship, she knew where everything was and even how it was laid out. Even with all the modifications made over the years. Din mentally pictured where the data-pad was - in part of the shelving built into the headboard of her bed-nest – the data-pad with comm attached floating in the air, coming through the still open doorway. She opened her eyes with a smirk as she saw the data-pad hovering in mid-air right beside her.  
She began to dictate lazily as she tried to lessen her concentration on the data-pad. The hot water felt really good, it was lulling her physical body into relaxing and allowing the muscles to unwind slightly, while her mind concentrated on the floating data-pad and the writing of the contract. She stayed like that until the water began to cool. Then Din got out and let the water drain into the recycling system. The water would go through that for a couple of days, but it was worth it to take just a water bath occasionally. She stepped into the shower that was at the foot of the tub and did a quick sonic shower on herself. Still keeping the data-pad floating, but no longer dictating to it, Din came out of the shower a minute later. Leaving the bathroom with the data-pad floating just in front of her, she let it set on the bed while she got dressed.  
She glanced at the alarm at the head of the bed. Thirty minutes left. She dressed in another two-piece body suit and put on another outfit, this one in matte-charcoal colors. Din then jumped down the ladder as she put the new belt that was black on. The armor was dry when she checked it. Retying the clothe around her braid and head, she slipped her stockinged feet into her boots. She worked her way up her body, placing the armor on. The last piece was the helmet itself. The alarmed blared.  
She made her way back to the cockpit, paused and retrieved the data-pad from her bed. Going fully into the cockpit, she sat down in the pilot’s seat and looked over the rough draft. She went through it again as the timer counted down until the Razor Crest exited Hyperspace. Din set it down and put her hands on the controls when the alarm said it was ten seconds away from exiting. She smirked to herself.

[On Nevarro]  
POV Change ~ Bounty Hunter Lookout  
He was bored out of his mind, keeping a watch for Karga. He knew that he had pissed the boss off, but he felt like it was a mistake anyone could have made. The Bounty Hunter knew there would be no pucks for him for another standard month. It was going to be a lean couple of months. His debt would go up for certain. He – his thoughts derailed as an unfamiliar ship came in. It looked like a modified Razor Crest. As it landed, he straightened. ‘Who was this?’ then he thought some more and sagged with disgusted resignation. It was probably another bounty hunter. The pucks were slow in-coming these days. Another hunter meant it would be even harder to get a job. He almost wanted to take out a blaster and shoot the bastard who came down that hatch –   
His thought process went blank. That is – that is – his mind stuttered. The only being disembarking from the newly landed ship seemed to stalk towards him, elegant death on two legs. That is – that is a MANDALORIAN! His thoughts unfroze and started running in circles as the Mandalorian glided past him, boots making an audible sound, like a war drum marching down the street, deeper into the city. He shook for a minute or so before he realized what just happened. Karga needed to know. He needed to know now! He fumbled at his belt and dropped the comm link. It took him a minute or three for his hands to stop shaking so he could pick the kriffing comm up. When he did manage to keep a grip on it, he commed Karga. “Greef Karga, you have a very important visitor heading your way! I’ll rephrase,” he gulped, “Karga, I don’t know what you did, but a Mandalorian just landed and has entered the city!”

POV Change ~ Greef Karga  
He had been having a rough year. It had been slow business with the pucks drying up. The Bounty Hunters Guild was losing income and might even go into debt as a group, rather than just over half of the individuals in debt. He saw a group in the corner, glaring at everyone. They were his top bounty hunters and he knew about them coming close to breaking the Code with near crippling fellow hunters before they could get another puck, but he couldn’t sanction them until they actually broke the Code.   
He turned to scan the rest of the main room of the cantina that he used as the base of operations for the Bounty Hunters Guild. There were more strained faces than there should have ever been. The tension was high and rising with each passing week. Pretty soon, he knew there would be bloodshed from the hunters tearing each other apart. He drank a shot of Spotchka trying to not pray for a miracle. Who would listen to him anyway?  
That was when the comm in his belt pinged and the voice of the Bounty Hunter who had messed up and lost the quarry and pissed off the client into the bargain that he had sent to watch the Landing Yards squeaked through. “Greef Karga, you have a very important visitor heading your way! I’ll rephrase,” a gulp was audible, “Karga, I don’t know what you did, but a Mandalorian just landed and has entered the city!” Squeaked as it was, everyone heard it. The entire cantina went quieter than a graveyard. He glanced down at the comm with a look of faint disbelief on his face. He picked up the comm and spoke into it with a calmness he in no way felt, “What do you mean by asking what did I do? Are you so stupid as to not remember that the New Republic made it mandatory for any bounties to be done either by their own people or through the Bounty Hunters Guild?!” ‘The Mando is probably a freelancer who just lost his income. Great, just great. I am about to be saddled with a pissed off Mandalorian when he finds out that I don’t have enough work to go around.’ It was at that moment that the door opened and as every single head in the place turned, including his, to see the Mandalorian in the threshold.   
The Mando walked calmly into the cantina, not seeming to notice the glares on some of the faces and hopeless resignation on others as he approached the booth Karga was sitting in. He paused when he reached the booth and tilted his head. Greef found his voice, “Sit, please.” It only trembled a little at the corner. The Mando unsecured the big gun from his back, just as everyone else – including Karga – flinched with their hands going for holsters. But, the Mando just sat down with the gun laid on the table. He seemed to stare at Karga from behind the silver helmet.  
Karga swallowed and with a deep breath, stated as calmly as he could, “What can the Bounty Hunters Guild do for you today?” The Mando took the hand closest to the trigger of the rifle and pulled a data-pad from somewhere. Placing that on the table, he slid it over to Greef. Puzzled by the silence, knowing every eye was watching his every move, he knew he could not show too much fear around this Mandalorian. He picked up the data-pad and began to read. It was a contract.  
As he read the contract that was on the data-pad, he had to reread it several times to let the words really register in his mind. When he knew he had not misread this contract; he looked up and near flatly incredulous said, “You have got to be joking.” The Mandalorian shook his head. The other hunters now had hands on blasters, ready to shoot the newcomer. They didn’t want to know what about the contents on that data-pad were, if they made Greef Karga of all men act like that.  
The group who comprised of some of the best hunters in the Guild stomped up to booth. They sneered almost at the same time as the leader snarled in the Mandalorian’s helmet, “We don’t need you to come swaggering in here, Mando! There aren’t enough work as it is, without you butting in!” He went to snatch the data-pad out of Karga’s hand when a blaster was jammed under the rude hunter’s chin. Humming clicks were heard throughout the cantina while the hunter froze where he was.  
No one had seen the Mando move, but while the rifle was still on the table, the Mandalorian was no longer in the booth. In the left hand, the blaster was pressed under the hunter’s chin and the right hand was fisted with a strange humming seeming to come from the vambrace, pointing at the other six hunters. All seven hunters continued to be frozen, but their eyes spat venom at the Mando. Karga closed his eyes and sighed. Shaking his head, he looked towards the room, “This is a contract draft between this Bounty Hunter and the Guild itself. It is not in any real way anyone else’s business unless Mando here,” he gestured to the still frozen group where the Mando was still a threatening specter, “wants to make it known.”  
Karga glanced at the Mandalorian and said calmly, “Could you please release the group?” The Mando didn’t reply, but the hunters glowered hate at both him and the Mando. The Mando slowly took the blaster from under the chin of the hunter it had been under and lowered the fisted right. As he seemed to start to turn back to the booth to face Karga, the former pinned hunters charge the Mando with a unified roar of fury. A blast of heat and the cantina froze in shocked horror.  
The top seven bounty hunters – in under ten seconds – had been reduced to screaming flaming bodies flailing on the floor. Karga had seen the entire thing go down in slow motion. The fisted right hand swung from the right to the left in one smooth motion, while release a spray of fire. Fire that consumed the lower half of everyone in range – which were only the seven hunters in the group. When they fell screaming, the fist unclenched and the flames stopped. The left hand – still holding the blaster – came up. A singing blaster reported seven times and the screaming ended. This was when the Mandalorian spoke for the first time since entering the cantina. “Anyone else?”  
It was a deep quiet growl, with a slight rasp under the monotone that seemed to weigh down all those who heard it with a menacing warning. Hands all around the room came off the blasters and were raised into the air, while heads shook vigorously. They had all seen that: the top seven most lethal bounty hunters in the entire parsec had been handled by one man in a span of time it took to blink. No one had even seen him start to move in the first place.   
Karga wasn’t sure what he was feeling, it was a heady mix. One-part awe, the legends about the abilities of the Mandalorian could be less overblown than he had thought, with the evidence that his own eyes had shown him occur not a minute ago. One-part relief, now he would not have to deal with those seven arrogant nerf herders. One-part shocked horror, seven people he knew just cut down right there in front of him in a very violent way. And the last part was wonder, but that had to do with the contract he held in his hand for the most part.  
He glanced down at it and said “This is extremely unusual. Such a deal has never been made, even during the time of the Old Republic.” The other occupants slowly lowered their hands and went back to their previous business while keeping an eye on the Mandalorian who had reseated. Karga knew that every single one of the other bounty hunters were straining to overhear the conversation that would hopefully be taking place. The Mando just looked at him. “Are you sure about this kind of deal? It doesn’t afford you as much protection as a full-time Guild member.”   
The Mandalorian stated quite firmly, “I could always go back to the New Republic and accept their offer as Consulting Bounty Hunter, where they would just hand over all the open bounties to me and leave nothing for the Guild.” Karga froze then, physically and mentally, because then he knew exactly who sat on the other side of the booth from him. He girded himself, this Mandalorian was just as infamous as the Fett who worked for the Empire. This was the Ghost. When Greef came back from the frozen moment, he felt the tension in the room spike. The other hunters had given up on any kind of subtlety and were staring at the booth. Greef knew if he somehow messed this up, the entire cantina would probably form a mob going after two targets, him primarily.  
He took a deep breath as he looked at the contract. It was rather well done and seemed to cover most scenarios that would come up in their line of business. It even had a clause for unexpected problems between fellow hunters and the Mandalorian. There were a few things that puzzled Karga though and those were the lines he questioned the Mandalorian on. “It is an excellent contract, but I do have some questions on some of the conditions here,” He pointed at the data-pad and continued, “these lines about the no questions policy, a plausible deniability status on the part of the Guild and this little bit about teaming up on bounties.”  
Karga looked up and tried to read the Mandalorian’s blank helmet and body language. Nothing, it was like trying to read an encoded droid. No emotions at all showed. “This contract will allow me the freedom I desire, the ability to ask questions, to remonstrate with foolish clients; all without the Guild paying for it. The condition about the partners should be easy enough to deal with. I don’t wish to share a ship with anyone I don’t trust explicitly. As of right now, I wouldn’t trust a single one of you with a dead Bantha. And I will not work with droids, so no partnering with droids at all.” The raspy monotone had darkened a little during the last sentence. Karga had no doubt that this Mando would probably shoot him and the droid he tried to send with him. He wasn’t stupid enough to take that chance.  
Instead, he nodded his assent and said, “Alright, welcome as a part-time Consulting Bounty Hunter of the Bounty Hunters Guild. This contract will be honored.” He took the stylus from his own pocket and signed as the Agent of the Guild on Nevarro. “Now,” he continued, the tension that had been in the air for what seemed like an eternity, festered into a storm front on the horizon, “you have to pay – “the Mando interrupted him with a pouch carelessly tossed onto the table top. It clicked with credits. Karga set down the data-pad and reached for the pouch. The Mando took the data-pad and disengaged a holodisk, which he seemed to put in a hidden pocket in his chest plate. That’s when Karga near had a heart attack; he had opened to pouch, expecting to find some credits, but not the entire fee for entering the Guild.   
That was the rule: either bring in your first bounty as your fee or pay ten thousand credits. The Mandalorian had just handed over a pouch with enough credits to get in the Guild five times over. His choked gasp was followed with – what almost sounded like a drawling monotone from the Mandalorian – “I would like a job within the next two standard days. If there is a partner, have them meet here beside you. This is my comm information for my ship.” With that he handed Karga a data-chip and rose. Taking up the rifle, the Mandalorian rose from the booth and started to walk towards the door. Karga blinked in surprise. The Mando was very abrupt. And very anti-social. He barely had time to say “Be seeing you,” before the hunter had exited the Cantina.


	4. Chapter Three: The Establishing and The First Guild Job:

** Recap: **

**That was the rule: either bring in your first bounty as your fee or pay ten thousand credits. The Mandalorian had just handed over a pouch with enough credits to get in the Guild five times over. His choked gasp was followed with – what almost sounded like a drawling monotone from the Mandalorian – “I would like a job within the next two standard days. If there is a partner, have them meet here beside you. This is my comm information for my ship.” With that he handed Karga a data-chip and rose. Taking up the rifle, the Mandalorian rose from the booth and started to walk towards the door. Karga blinked in surprise. The Mando was very abrupt. And very anti-social. He barely had time to say “Be seeing you,” before the hunter had exited the Cantina.**

_POV ~ Still Greef Karga_

The Mando had left the data-pad on the table. He carefully picked it up, after tying the credit pouch up and putting it into his coat pocket with equal care. The contract was still on the screen, but he now saw that there were additional folders on it. One of them was blinking a faint red. He chose that folder and it opened to reveal a message:

_Forgive the abrupt departure, but I have no wish to linger. Since this message will only become available for reading when the contract is accepted, I know I have become part of the Guild in a fashion. You are no doubt wondering about the extra credits for the entrance fee. Ten-thousand of those credits are for the entrance fee of course. The other forty-thousand is for most of the debt that I know my fellow hunters have incurred and are loaning from the Guild itself._

Greef couldn’t believe his eyes. _‘Just who the hell was this Ghost? What was going on under that bucket?’_ He saw that there was more to the message and continued to read. So, in shock was he, that Karga didn’t realize most of the cantina was still staring at him.

_Everyone who is anyone in the bounty hunting business knows that it is slow right now. It doesn’t help that there are Amateurs making mistakes costing repeat customers and bounties. Or that some hunters are not wanting to take certain jobs because they are afraid of the quarry or the conditions leading to said captured quarry. I do not mind getting small bounties, but my conditions in the contract you have signed are clad in Beskar. Break it knowingly, and I will break the Guild, only ending with you so you could see what happens when someone breaks a contract with me. You should tell the other hunters about the contract. They will take it better from you than me._

He gulped as he continued to read. Karga was glad to see the word ‘knowingly’ written in. He didn’t want to get the blame for someone else’s stupidity. It was here, Karga glanced out of the corner of his eye at the rest of the room to read it. The tension storm was coming closer. He would have to say something to the room at large to get the storm to move off somewhere else, to be someone else’s problem. “What are you all looking at? Either say something one at a time or keep quiet. And will someone get rid of this mess,” Greef gestured to the seven corpses, “they are beginning to smell worse.”

Karga admitted in his own mind that he could have phrased it better, but seeing how seven people died not six feet away from him, the Mandalorian known as the Ghost had come into his cantina and brought a contract for signing rather than swearing the oath of the Guild, and then tossed a small fortune into his lap; he felt he should be excused from being a little too blunt. The tension exploded into a cacophony of noise. The only one who was even remotely calm was the bartender who looked to be gesturing at the cleaning droid at the far counter.

Finally, a Twi’lek shoved over to his seat, spun around and shrieked, “Shut the Kriffing Hell UP!” while brandishing a throwing knife. A hush fell over the cantina, the most sound coming from the droid that was cleaning up the corpses. The Twi’lek gave them a moment, nodded and spun to face him. “Now,” she started, “I have some questions that I would like answered. First and foremost,” she pointed at the door, “who the kriff was that?”

Karga shook his head and said, loudly enough for the entire cantina to hear, “Gather round children,” he smirked as he heard some swearing grumbles from some of the more prideful hunters, “I have a story to tell you.” The entire cantina, even the barman, came in close enough to hear him without him having to strain his voice. The Twi’lek, who had asked the question, sat down in his booth. He shrugged and smiled at her indulgently like a parent with spoiled kid. She fidgeted with impatience.

“Now,” he started as everyone listened, “most here know – or at least should know – the legends or even rumors of Mandalorians. A race of warriors that were made for war and hunting. They were mostly killed off by the Empire, now they are scattered and maybe dying out completely. Still doesn’t change the fact, they are not a people to mess with. That hunter that came and left is a Mandalorian.” He paused as he heard some of the rookies whisper to their closet companion, only to be silenced by the more experienced counterparts. The more experienced knew that this was just a beginning and that information was more precious than credits. “That one though,” he slightly shuddered here; remembering the unofficial tales he had heard from his old spy network, “that particular Mandalorian is known in certain New Republic circles as the Ghost.”

As soon as he had said the word ‘Ghost’, almost all the hunters seem to flinch in surprise. He didn’t blame them. After all, that Mando had a terrifying reputation. Even when just about everyone hated the bounty hunter that went by ‘Ghost’, no one could say that they weren’t very good; maybe the best in the galaxy. When on a hunt, it was said that you would not see him go and you damn sure would never see him coming. Unless, he wanted you to. He could get into any place, get to any person; it was said.

Karga continued, knowing that the contract should be made common knowledge like the Ghost had requested in that last note. “Mando there, was a freelancer who worked in every part of this galaxy. It is even rumored that _he_ worked with the Rebellion to help overthrow the Empire. Most of the jobs I have heard being taken in by him were big ones. True, he would take small krill ones too, but the big bounties are what got my attention.” He turned and faced the Twi’lek as understanding dawned on their faces. “Part of the reason that the pucks have been so slow from the New Republic is because they would give them to him. With him now as part of the Guild – as loosely as possible – they will be sending the pucks in our direction. That is part of his contract,” he gestured at the data-pad. The Twi’lek snatched it up and started to read it both the message and the contract. There was a pause as he waited for her to be finished.

She looked up after a few minutes. Her expression was a mix of intrigue, shock and a kind of hunger. For what, Karga didn’t want to know. “He is very generous, the Ghost is,” she said. He nodded and explained to the group at large, “He handed over forty-thousand credits extra to pay off some of the debt that some hunters owe the Guild. In the contract, he also says because he wants to be as free as possible, when he takes a bounty; the Guild may keep up to thirty-percent of his portion, to make sure that his freedom of the Code is acceptable.” A surprised gasp or two as the hunters were stunned by this. “You all heard his conditions though. Droids,” Karga continued, “you will never be partnered intentionally with him. All those with ships of your own,” which was a minority of the hunters – they usually rent ones that the Guild provides and lets the fees for that come out of the bounty – “you will be partnered with him if there ever needs to be a partnering. If you have further questions,” Karga started to finish, “just look at the contract on the data-pad.” He rose then as the crowd broke up to huddle in small groups to talk about the events that had taken place. He at this point didn’t care, he was going over to the bar to get a jar of spotcka, he needed it.

_~ POV Change ~ Din Djarrin_

Din left the cantina that was where the Bounty Hunter Guild usually did business, trying not to feel too annoyed. She was tired and wanted to go back to her ship to sleep, but she couldn’t. Not yet, she had to do a primary scout first. The comm that automatically tuned into the planet’s local communications was mostly static. Nothing interesting going on at the moment. She still wanted to know more about what would be a part of her routine now.

Her first idea was to scout the bazaar. There are all kinds of stalls there, but she also wanted to be sure that there was some kind of way for her to get to her various bank accounts – or at least some of them. She wouldn’t want to be stranded without some form of income that the Guild didn’t know about. Call her paranoid, she preferred the term Mandokarla. Din stalked through the bazaar, bypassing many stalls that had no interest to her. There was one, however, that made her pause and study it. The vendor beckoned to her with an encouraging smile. An old man with what little remained of his hair as white as snow and eyes that seemed to be almost as pale. She approached.

His smile widened as he started, “It has been too long since I have seen one of your kind, Mando,” his voice was a fluting whisper compared to the shouting that surrounded them, “I saw you pause and wondered how can I be of service today.” Din smiled unseen as she replied, “I am interested in your wares,” she gestured to the seedling packets, “what kind of seedlings are these?” He looked at her with some surprise. After all, who had heard of a Mandalorian interested in gardening?

The vendor smiled and said, “Well, I have seedlings from all over the parsec. Mostly common plants from planets in this sector that thrive in volcanic soil. I have some rare ones though,” he picked up one packet that had a picture of some kind of vine, with golden fruit. “This here is a local berry vine from the far side of Nevarro. Takes two standard years to bear fruit, even during unsavory weather, but this one in particular has been known to make excellent wine. Good enough that Core-folks will pay well for it.” As she perused the vendors wares, she became aware of eyes on her. They were not hostile, not really. They were different.

Din straightened and looked around casually. There, at the corner of the booth just two vendors down, was a kid. It looked Human, or mostly Human, with a tattered robe of some dirty brown color on it. She ignored them for now, instead she picked up several packets that caught her interest and said “How much?” The vendor stared at her and said with evident surprise, “one hundred credits, but – “She handed him stated one hundred and said in a quiet tone, “Is there a forge around here?” He glanced at her and said something about scrappers and a junk yard. No really useable forges, then. She inwardly sighed and nodded farewell.

Turning as she placed the seedling packets into the hidden sack-pouch under her cape, she started to walk on. A few seconds later, she heard the kid make their move. The kid had probably never heard of a Mandalorian or if they did, they didn’t recognize her as one. They tried to snag her pouch, the one where she had pulled the credits to purchase the seedlings. Instead, they found themselves snagged by the back of the robe and held up in front of her at arm’s length. “What are you thinking?” Her growled question made the kid and the vendor both pale, and the kid to start whimpering. That was when she heard it, the kid’s stomach growling.

_~ POV Change ~_

Sona knew that she could catch trouble for this later, but she was getting too scared to care. Her Mama was sick, and both of them were hungry. She needed to buy food, but there was no money. With Papa gone and Mama too tired to work, she needed to do something. But she couldn’t get a job. No one wanted to hire a little girl-brat. So, she tried stealing. Sometimes it worked. For small things like a little ration-pack on the edge of a table. She had gotten very good at it, in the very long week since her Mama started coughing. Sona was worried though, Mama was getting weaker with every passing day and she was afraid.

She hadn’t meant to; she had seen the shiny-head walking down the streets. She had never seen him before, so she thought that he came from off-planet, so she thought he wouldn’t know the streets as well as she did. She could snatch the pouch he took the money from and run. He couldn’t catch her; she was really fast. Sona ran for the pouch from under the cover of the people coming and going. She had nearly gotten within snatching range of the pouch, when suddenly **_she_** was snatched.

Snatched right off the ground and was being held up by – she gulped. Shiny-Head had her by the back of her robe and was holding her in front of his face. His voice was deep when he was talking to the old man vendor. Now it sounded deeper, like the distant booming of volcanoes erupting. “What are you thinking?” Sona couldn’t help it, she whimpered. She was scared, she was hungry and she wanted Mama. Her tummy growled.

Shiny-Head looked at her tummy, then back at her face. The voice was still deep, but it was not boom-scary anymore. “Kid, never try to pickpocket a Mandalorian. It is bad for you.” He lowered her to the ground, but didn’t release her. She struggled a little before his growled order to stop, made her stop struggling to get away and start near crying. Shiny-Head was going to do something bad. Bad Things always happened when adults that were not Mama caught kids. At best, she might get slapped a couple of times. At worse, she might vanish and never see her Mama again.

“Want a job, kid?” the question startled Sona so much she looked up at Shiny-Head. “I need a guide for this city. You want to play Guide for a couple of hours?” A job! That wasn’t a Bad Thing. Mama always said it was better to have a paying job than to steal anyway. She nodded, hiccupping softly. Shiny-Head released her. Passing her a credit, he said, “Well? Lead on.” She nodded and started trotting.

_~ POV Change ~ Din Djarren_

Usually, with a street kid, Din usually scares the ever-living daylights out of them and send them on their way with a warning not to try to steal from any Mandalorian. But this kid was a little girl with slightly gaunt cheeks and rumbling stomach; this kid is different for some reason. She couldn’t put her finger on the reason why, but it turned out to a mutually beneficial arrangement. The kid would get a few credits and she would have an outline of this location.

The vendor and the few passing people who had seen the drama stared for an instant, only to turn away hurriedly when she turned her helmet towards them. The little girl started moving away, she followed her. They were walking for a few minutes, the little one pointing this or that out to her. “That way is underground. It was the old sewer system. No one uses it now. If you’re not careful, you could get lost.” “That vendor always sets up here, even when it is ashy. He always seems to be there.” And “That is a place that I can’t go. Mama said so.” And on it went for several booths. Din made mental notes on everything that they passed. The place the little girl had said she couldn’t go to looked like some sort of brothel. She didn’t blame the girl’s mother. But it left the question of where this little girl’s mother was. And why did the mother leave her daughter to go hungry. This would need investigating.

As the duo passed a food seller’s booth, she put a hand on the girl’s thin shoulder and said “Stop,” Din picked up three small red-orange fruits and tossed a credit at the vendor. The vendor caught it and blinked. She held up the three small fruits and gave one to the little girl. The little one stared up at her in amazement. “Well,” Din drawled, “eat while we walk. I would like to know more about this place.” The girl started and then nodded. Biting into her fruit as she started trotting again. Din followed.

“Sona.” Din looked down at the little girl. “What?” The girl flushed and mumbled, “My name is Sona.” “Sona,” Din said thinking the name over. The bazaar was ending when little Sona gasped and darted forward, her almost completely-eaten fruit forgotten in the dirt. Din watched the little girl rush up to a human female that had staggered down the street. The woman was coughing and hacking.

Din frowned and proceeded to walk up to little Sona and the woman – who she suspected was the mother – while placing the two left over fruits in the hidden sack, along with the seedling packets. As she approached, she saw that the woman was near skeletal, she was so thin. There was a scar on her neck and another one on her cheek. Her hair was a cropped red and matted to her head with sweat. Her eyes when she looked up to see her approach, were a glazed over blue-green. The woman was sick, very sick. _‘Probably too sick and weak to work.’_ Din thought as she stopped a scant foot away from the two. Sona was crying softly saying something along the lines of “mama too sick, mama should be resting” and the woman was hugging her and saying things like “mama will, if Sona comes home.” The voice that came from her throat was raspy and choked. Din made a decision. “She can’t just yet and neither can you.”

The woman turned to look at her again and now a kind of hazy-understanding of just who she was seeing seemed to get through to her. But before she could say or do anything other than turn a pale gray, Din lifted her off the ground and cradled her as if the woman was a child herself. The woman was shamelessly easy to lift. Din turned to Sona and said to the staring child, “Show me to the nearest clinic.” So, Sona did.

Near jogging, the little girl showed the way, Din following with the mother in her arms. The way was about ten minutes of striding after little Sona. Sona took them through alleys and a way that seemed to be a dead-end, which turned out to have a false-wall. The clinic was at the end of the street, on the corner farthest away from the false-walled alley. Sona went right up to it, but paused. Turning to Din, she pantingly said, “This is the best one, but it costs lots.” Din said, “It doesn’t matter at the moment.” She strode inside. The mother who didn’t have the strength to struggle or even remain conscious for the entire trip, was simply limp. Sona followed after them.

_~ POV Change ~ Sona_

_‘Mama should have stayed home. Mama is too sick.’_ She thought as she tried to run as fast as she could to the closest clinic in the city. She had heard people say that the more it costs, the better it is. This one was the most expensive, but everyone came out alive. Sona took a few shortcuts, hoping she wouldn’t lose Shiny-Head. Shiny-Head was like Mama. Shiny-Head gave her a job, food and was strong. Strong enough to be pick up Mama and carry her like Mama used to do for her. Her everything was tired. Her feet and her throat hurt. Her tummy was rolling around and made her feel bad. Her eyes were burning.

Shiny-Head didn’t stop, he went straight into the clinic, still carrying Mama. Sona followed him inside. Shiny-Head went over the nearest bed and placed Mama on it, gently. A woman wearing a white coat came up to Shiny-Head. Shiny-Head said “Treat her and the girl.” The woman turned to her in surprise. Sona flinched away from the woman. She was scared. She ran over to Shiny-Head and hid behind him. She didn’t know Shiny-Head, but she knew he was strong and fast and like Mama more than anyone else she had met before. Shiny-Head seemed to sigh as the strange woman seemed to snap out of whatever surprise had come over her and bent down to look at Mama.

Mama’s eyes were closed and she wasn’t breathing right. The woman was scanning her with something and when she looked at it, Sona didn’t like the look on the woman’s face. It looked sad. That meant bad. The woman met her eyes and then silently handed the scanner to Shiny-Head. Shiny-Head took it and looked at it. Shiny-Head was silent for a couple of minutes before he spoke, “Do you have a breathing apparatus that you can use on her?” The voice – deep as it was – was calm. Sona relaxed; Shiny-Head knew what to do. Shiny-Head will help Mama.

“Ugh, yes, but it – “the woman started, Shiny-Head interrupted with a quick “Get it.” The woman just looked at Shiny-Head then she went to get it. She was kind of scared of Shiny-Head. Sona didn’t blame her even if she didn’t know why. When the woman came back, Shiny-Head took it from her. The woman flinched and backed slightly into a corner. She was playing with something. Shiny-Head looked at her, then turned to Mama.

Mama was coughing slightly, trying to turn on her side. Shiny-Head looked over at the woman and growled “Lift and brace her.” The woman slunk over to Mama and Shiny-Head and did as Shiny-Head told her. Sona watched all this. She was tired, but she fought off sleep. She wanted to know what was going on! The machine that the woman brought was set down beside Mama and Shiny-Head put a mask on Mama’s face. Then he took something off his belt.

It was a pouch. He pulled out a vial of something that glowed slightly. The woman holding Mama up, started as if shocked by the vial. Shiny-Head ignored her and put it in the machine. The machine hummed and the started making noises like a pump. Mama breathes quickened for a moment. Sona watched amazed as Mama started looking a little more relaxed in her sleep. Shiny Head got up then and seemed to be searching for something. He asked about something that Sona didn’t know, but the woman did. She got up from where she had been holding Mama up and did something so that the part of the cot rose to hold Mama up instead. Mama was sleeping deeply now, looking more peaceful than she had in a long time. Sona yawned; Mama would be okay. Shiny-Head had helped!

_~ POV Change ~ Din Djarrin_

The mother’s illness would be clearing up by tomorrow afternoon at the latest, thanks to the specialized bacta. Now, the trouble would be getting some nutrients into her and her daughter’s systems. Din could see that the mother was near collapsing from starvation. Coupled with the inflammation in her lungs, it could have spelled her death and sentenced her daughter to a similar fate or worse. She could see little Sona starting to yawn. She was a little fighter, but she was still just a kid. Sona would be asleep in a few moments. That would be fine by her.

Din turned to the medic. She was only a nurse assistant; the real medical doctor must be out making a house call. The woman had tried to be subtle about it, but Din had seen the comm in her hand. The doctor would know what was going on before he got in through the door. Din didn’t care.

She instead bent down to look at little Sona, who was now leaning on her leg and blinking rapidly. The little one was falling asleep on her feet. Din carefully scooped the child up and gently placed her on the cot with her mother. Sona just curled up without a sound and fell asleep, tucked between her mother’s side and arm. It was a warming, yet heart-breaking scene. Din mentally shook herself, there was no time for that. She got the scanner that had been left on the other side of the machine, where she had set it down on a nearby tabletop.

Din bent over the little girl and scanned her. Malnourished, but other than that, she was healthy. Considering all the facts that she had and what she could infer, Din thought she could see what happened. But, how to do anything about it? She was a Mandalorian. She would find a way! That was when the doctor barged in, blaster pointed at her and a nurse droid hybrid behind her.

_~ POV Change ~_

When Doctor Hadi got the emergency signal from her little sister, acting as the clinic’s secretary/assistant, she was just finishing up with the mechanic that had gotten pinned under some collapsing junk pile. The mechanic had been fine, just a few bruises and scratches. She had only come because the other womp rats he worked with had been too afraid to move him. Hadi had taken K8-MB1 with her just in case it was actually serious and the patient needed transporting back to the clinic. It hadn’t been, but now she regretted taking the droid. K8-MB1 would have been able to protect her little sister from whatever scum had come into the clinic. She could also be jumping to conclusions, she thought as she let K8 carry her faster than she could run. It could have been just someone that hurt and needed more help than Rekas could provide. But she would be cautious. The clinic was in sight.

K8, at her signal, let her down and she drew her blaster. It was a small thing, but it would take out anyone who was messing with her sister. She charged in.

The first thing she noticed was the Mandalorian that was looking at her. The next thing she noticed was the fact that the Mandalorian was standing next to one of the cots with a sleeping woman who looked near dead. The third was that her sister was in a far corner, unharmed. She lowered the blaster slowly from where she had it pointed at the Mandalorian, holstering it just as slowly. Hadi didn’t want to put the Mandalorian’s back up any more than she already had.

The Mando had just looked at her, then at her droid. The stance changed, becoming more aggressive. She couldn’t guess why. The Mando was tense and looking very uptight. She didn’t want to set him off, so she turned to the droid, “K8,” the droid turned to her, “please go check inventory.” The droid went to do the asked task, disappearing into the back. The Mando followed its every move until K8-MB1 left the sight. Only when it was gone completely out of sight did the Mando turn to look at her.

“These two are in need,” a deep and raspy voice came from that silver bucket, a gloved hand gestured to the cot. Two? Hadi came forward to see a little girl, barely out of toddlerdom, curled up on the other side of the bed. “Here,” she glanced up to see a data-chip and a pouch being offered to her. She tentatively took it. “If you need to contact me, this is my information. The pouch is for the mother and her child.” The Mandalorian nodded and strode out of the clinic, before she could find the words lodge into her throat. Abrupt, that one.

She looked over at her sister. Rekas had a sheepish look on her face, “Sorry, he just startled me and I didn’t know what to do for the mother and daughter.” Hadi shook her head. “I held a blaster on a Mandalorian. I am lucky he didn’t shoot me.” She replied as she crossed over to put the pouch on the counter. She might as well open it and see what she had to work with. The pouch revealed a sum of credits that had both sisters staring. Twenty-thousand. Twenty-thousand credits for a pair of strangers? The sisters looked at each other and Hadi remembered the data-chip. Contact information. She would definitely keep contact with this Mandalorian.

_~ POV Change ~ Din Djarrin_

Din was ready to sleep for a day and a night cycle and eat a bantha. She was grateful that she had an excellent sense of direction and the helmet’s settings that allowed her to near follow her own footsteps. It took a few minutes to get to the entrance of the bazaar and another few minutes to find another food stall. She was also grateful that she had thought to carry five pouches of credits today. She gave the most to the Guild for fees and debt paying. She didn’t expect the hunters to be grateful to her, but it would hopefully keep some of them sated for now. Din had no intention of fending off other bounty hunters because they were desperate for work. She would have to kill them and that would be a waste of time and energy.

The second largest pouch was one she called the Samaritan Pouch. She only took that thing with her when she felt the urge to. It didn’t come often, but when it did, she always gave it away. Din could afford to, so she did. The others didn’t have as many credits as the ones given away, but they held enough to restock anything that was needed. At the moment, nothing was needing restocked on her ship. She had bought the seedling packets on a whim. She knew from experiments that carbonite freezing didn’t affect vegetables and fruit, but would it affect seeds and seedlings? The seeds would go in a little experiment for her to try out the idea.

No one was really paying her any attention and she wanted to sleep before she explored more of the town. That settled her mind of where she was to go now. Back to the Razor Crest.

It took another fifteen minutes, before she saw the Yards. She saw her ship, silhouetted against the sunset. She went towards it, and tired as she was, she looked around. No Jawas, yet. Must be working on those two former-Imp controlled installations. She compressed a button on her vambrace, it told the Crest to lower the smaller hatch. It was the one she most used and would only use when Ground Security Protocols were activated. And she made sure to activate them every time she left the Crest. The only ones allowed near her ship – besides herself - were the Jawas and a few mechanics; all of which knew better than to get near her ship without her nearby.

The hatch was just touching the ground when she finally made it to her ship. Up the hatch she went, sending the closing command even as she walked up the ramp. Din was inside and safe. She had been up ever since she had started the approach of the refueling station. She needed to sleep. Din looked down at herself. She didn’t have the energy to climb up to her personal quarters and have a shower. She instead opened the old compartment that used to be a primitive medical bay, when it was part of the patrolling fleet for the Old Republic. She had revamped it of course, but it was still tiny. She removed her boots, her belt with its pouches, the sack that lay hidden under her cape, the cape and left them in a pile by the foot of the bed. Din took the helmet off her head and placed it beside the head of the bed. She laid her vambraces there and yawned. She should eat and take a shower, but she was just too tired. Instead, Din curled up under a thin blanket and went to sleep.

[Sometime later]

Din woke from her sleep, rested. She lay there in a curl for a moment, just trying to enjoy some peaceful quiet, before she remembered that she hadn’t finished exploring the town and hadn’t talked to the Jawas yet. She got up, grumbling to herself.

She didn’t bother with cooking anything when she got out to the more open part of the deck. Din simply grabbed a ration bar and began to chew mechanically. As she finished the last biting, still chewing actually, she started redressing. Putting her helmet in place, she paused. Din ate a second ration bar as she walked over to the computer cabinet. The computer had gotten to forty percent done. Her eyebrows rose. Definitely going to be some interesting things on that computer now. The slow pace was either to protected information or lots of traffic in the facilities or a combination of both. She closed it and decided to empty the hidden sack for now. She would need the space.

Leaving the seedlings and the two fruit on the counter by the sink, Din went to the cabinet where her specialty carving kit was and put it inside the sack. She also went and got a special package she had made years ago. It comprised of several little trackers and a close-frequency tracking fob. The package went on her pouch, just under the sack. That was when she put her helmet on and opened the hatch. She very rarely used the bigger hatch that was still useable. Why would she need to?

She walked down the hatch and as it closed up behind her, she looked at the sky. It was still night. Fine by her. It may be more deserted than before, but that made it easier to see what was hidden during the day. She walked into the town.

It took her a few hours of steadily looking around, before the sun began to rise. This was when she went underground to explore the sewers that had been pointed out by little Sona just yesterday. There was a curtain over the entrance that she brushed aside. There was a small stairwell. She pulled out one of the little trackers and dropped it. There it lay, blinking a little red light. Din started walking, exploring the tunnels. They were dark and silent and remarkably clean – they must have been part of a very old sewer system that had been cut off from use. For that at least. There a hint of Sulphur now, she followed her nose to the source to find a river of lava.

She looked at it and the surroundings. It was an underground river of lava. Where did the river go? She would find out later. Din turned back and walked up the sloping tunnel up a wider stretch of tunnel. Taking out the fob from her kit, she saw that it was too her left. She looked and actually saw the tracker right where she left it. It was about fifty meters away. When she looked to the right, however she saw what must have been some part of a filtration system. A circular room with minor vents in the ceiling and was actually a little lower than the wider bit of tunnel leading to the stairwell. She stepped down to look at it and was suddenly overwhelmed with a feeling.

A feeling of something coming, just on the horizon. That something, when it came, would be like a dawn cresting a far too long night. She didn’t understand what, but she knew it meant something big. It would not be soon, she probed the feeling, it wasn’t even paling the sky, that heralded first light, let alone dawn. No, it would not be soon, but it would come. She would have to be patient. In the meantime, she knelt and got her sack from her back. Taking out the carving tools that were made for carving anything from stone to ivory to wood, she began to make a sign. A sign that would be unmistakable to anyone who knew Mando’a. She carved the words “ _Su cuy'gar teh beroya_ ” {Translation: Hello [and literally means “You’re still alive”] From Bounty Hunter} into the lintel of the room. Looking at it, she nodded to herself. There, in a hidden place, in a labyrinth of tunnels would be a message that no one could find. An electronic one could be, but a carved message? Impossible unless you looked at the stone face itself. Din hoped the feeling was right. It usually was, but there were things that seemed right and changed. Like false starts in races.

Well, Din was finished exploring the tunnels for now. She thought of something then and went back to the lava river. There she left a tracker. She would come back for it later, to find out where the river went. That was when she left the sewers entirely and entered the bazaar again. The noise of vendors and customers alike were obnoxious, but she bore up the irritation. Din looked around, she should probably check on little Sona and her mother. She started down the route she had taken to get to the clinic.

She paused at three vendor’s booths along the way. Once to get a jar of bone broth, another to get a small bunch of fruit that looked similar to meloni-fruit, and the last stop was more surprising for the vendor, one who made toys. There was a fluffy bantha toy that would hopefully be perfect for Sona. Din near froze, she was treating little Sona and her mother as part of her family. ‘ _No,’_ she thought, ‘ _I am treating them like good people who have had some rotten luck and need some help to get back on their feet. That’s all.’_ With that thought, Din continued to the clinic.

_~ POV Change ~ Dr. Hadi_

The woman that had been brought in had been sleeping for most of the day, only stirring around midday. The scanner had shown that the lungs were completely healthy and the only problem now would be to get her to a healthy weight again. The little girl had woken up earlier and had been distressed to not see “Shiny-Head”. Hadi and Rekas had been confused for a moment, before it dawned on them that the little girl was talking about the Mandalorian. It had taken most of the morning to get the little girl to tell them how she had met the Mandalorian. When they had gotten the story from her, the sisters were amazed. And amused. Who had ever heard of such a strange Mandalorian?

When the woman was awake, looking aware and sound in mind – if not in body, Rekas asked her about what had happened to bring them to this state. The mother had bowed her head and explained in a low voice that she had been a waitress at a cantina that had closed down recently. It hadn’t paid well, so she didn’t have the money to spend on rent or too much food. She had been looking for more work when she had gotten sick. The mother’s name was Mona. She apologized for putting them in any kind of trouble and asked how she could repay the debt she owed to them for taking her and her little girl in. Mona had seemed surprised by the statement that there was no debt.

“But how can that be?” Mona asked, looking lost and even a little frightened. “Shiny-Head!” little Sona chirped from her curled-up position beside her mother. All three women looked down at Sona, the sisters with amusement and Mona with confusion. “Shiny-Head?” Mona inquired. Hadi said “The Mandalorian.”

Mona jerked her head around to stare at her. Apparently, she had been too far gone with fever to remember the Mando. Rekas told Mona, “The Mandalorian carried you in here, late yesterday. He actually had some special type of bacta that could be used to help clear up that sickness in your lungs. And he left you this,” here Rekas gave over the pouch that the Mando left with the sisters to give to the mother. Where some might have kept the pouch and said nothing about it, the sisters hadn’t taken anything yet. They weren’t so desperate for credits that they would rob someone. And they would give a heavy discount. After all, they hadn’t really treated Mona or Sona. The Mandalorian had done most of it.

They understood the mother’s shock and confusion when she saw just what was in the pouch. She shook in on the cot, shaking with raw emotions. Mona stuttered a question too low for either sisters to hear. But someone else did. “Shiny-Head like you Mama,” Sona said, “Shiny-Head nice.”

“Shiny-Head?” said a deep, raspy voice came from somewhere behind them near the door. All four people jumped and turned with various noises of surprise. There in the doorway stood the Mandalorian himself with a net-bag held in his right hand. How they hadn’t heard him open the door, none knew.

“Shiny-Head!” Sona near-shrieked and got off the bed. She ran over to the Mando and hugged him around the knee. The Mando just looked down at the little girl and put a hand on her head. Patting it slightly, he said “Let go, kid.” Little Sona didn’t let go. The Mandalorian just looked at her for a moment and then seemed to let it go. He looked up at the three women and began to walk. Little Sona wrapped her legs around his leg, but that didn’t seem to slow the Mando down at all. He was just as graceful walking with a kid wrapped around his leg as he was without said child.

He came over to the bed and there stopped. Looking down at Sona, he said “Get off.” This time Sona did. She let go and crawled back onto the cot to curl once more, on her mother’s side. The Mandalorian looked at them for a moment and then – to Hadi and Rekas - “Do you have cups that they can use?” Rekas looked intimidated by the Mando, so Hadi nodded and proceeded to get up and get the requested cups.

When she returned from the back where she had them stored, she saw that the Mando had taken the net-bag and opened it to reveal a jar, some fruit and a bantha toy. He was holding the toy out to the little girl who was staring at it with wide eyes. “You may have this after you eat,” turning to Mona, who was staring just as much as Rekas and Sona were, the Mandalorian stated, “I never got your name.” Mona stuttered her name as Hadi brought the two cups over.

The Mando opened the jar to reveal bone broth. Pouring it into the cups, he handed both over to the mother and daughter. “Drink,” he ordered. That went on for some minutes, the mother and daughter drinking the broth. They both had two cups and were now working their way through the fruit. When the fruit was finished and both Mona and Sona were blinking with sleepy contentment. The Mando – who everyone was feeling a feeling of suspicious surprise at – handed the Bantha toy over to little Sona who looked at it and hugged it. Snuggling down into her mother’s side again, she fell asleep.

Mona and the Mando seemed to stare each other down for a moment. Then Mona asked in a weak voice, “Why?” The Mandalorian tilted his head and said “Because you are a mother with a daughter you try to do right by. Everyone has a stroke of bad luck. Sometimes, people just need a little help. In this case, we can help each other.” He glanced up at Hadi and Rekas, “All of us.” All three women stiffened, wondering just what the Mando had up his sleeves. “Mona, what do you do? What can you do?” Mona flushed and said “I was a waitress and sometimes singer and flutist. I lost my job when the cantina I worked for went out of business.” The Mando looked at her and asked “Do you have any experience working with bacta manufacturing or otherwise?” Mona looked up and shook her head with startled confusion. That was not a question anyone had thought he would ask. Bacta was only found on one planet in the Inner Rim after all. No one knew how to make it outside of the planet it originated from. Where was the Mandalorian going with this?

“With your lungs healed, you should be able to sing and play the flute again, but you are severely underweight. You shouldn’t strain yourself or you will fall ill again.” The Mando paused and then said, “How quick can you pick up new things?” Mona looked down at her daughter then looked up at the Mando, “For her,” she said with a strength the sisters wouldn’t have known she had, “I will learn at lightspeed.” The Mando nodded as if satisfied. “Good. Rest and get better faster.” Turning to the sisters, he said “Do you have an access point to the old sewer system?” They were startled by the question. Rekas answered with a stuttered yes and said it was in the back. The Mando got up and seemed to pause.

“Is the droid back there?” Hadi glanced at the Mando in surprise. “No, K8 is out getting supplies. We had run low on a few things so we sent them to go get what they could – “The Mandalorian was already walking towards the back. He had started fiddling with one of his vambraces and was just looking around the supply room, when Hadi followed him back there.

She could not help but ask “Rude, much?” The Mando seemed to ignore her. Hadi was just about to ask him what his fecking problem was when he started towards the semi-covered vent near the back. “I don’t like droids.” The simple statement with a menacing growling undertone, warned Hadi that this was a sore point for the Mando and she shouldn’t pry. The grate wasn’t welded shut and the Mando lifted it off easily. He turned on a light that was somehow attached to his helmet and peered inside. He seemed satisfied by what he saw. He took a blinking red something from his pocket and dropped it inside the gaping hole. The Mando withdrew his head and put the grate back on it.

She led the Mandalorian back out to the front of the clinic, where Rekas was seeing to a newly come bounty hunter who looked like he had gotten on the wrong end of a fire. Both his arms were badly burned and a line or two of scorch marks on his tunic and pants showed he had been in one hell of a fight. He looked up and said “Hello, ma’am.” Rekas looked up and said, “Hadi, could you have a look over him? I want to make sure I got everything.”

Hadi nodded and went over to inspect the newcomer. Rekas withdrew and started putting information into their computer for records. As Hadi inspected her sister’s work, she noticed that the Mando wasn’t in the room. She wondered about that, but didn’t want to draw attention to the fact that there was a Mandalorian here. Hadi finished her inspection and said, “You didn’t miss anything Rekas. And you,” she addressed the hunter, “need to keep those dressings on for another week.” The hunter nodded and then asked “What do I owe you?” Hadi turned to Rekas who had finished putting the needed information into the computer records and was turning towards them. Rekas said “five hundred credits.” The hunter winced, but pulled out the stated number. Handing them over to Hadi, he got up and left the clinic.

Hadi turned to see the Mando coming out of the back room. She wanted to ask, why he had hidden, but thought the better of it. What he did was his business, not hers. If it was about that mysterious business about bacta manufacturing or investing in her clinic, well, that was both their business. But she didn’t think the avoidance of the hunter had to do with that.

The Mandalorian handed her a data-pad. It had was a list of materials. “Could these parts be found here in town?” She looked up startled to meet the visor of his helmet. Nothing, no emotions, no flickering spark; just a blank black visor. Hadi looked down to peruse the list. Some of the parts weren’t available without some exorbitant amount of credits, but they all could be found if you know where to look. She said as much to the Mando as she handed him back his data-pad, who nodded, then looked over at Mona. She was sleeping again, the time spent with the Mandalorian obviously wearing the poor thing out. “That pouch should be enough to keep both of them in shelter and food while this gets set up,” he said softly. The deep voice seemed to purr out. “Is there a bank or a place for communications off planet?” The question puzzled her, but she nodded anyway and stated “Yes, to both. The bank has a way to communicate off-planet that is three blocks west of here and there’s a communication center by the East Yards.”

He nodded as he pocketed the data-pad. “I will be off-planet most of the time, but I will be stopping by when I am.” She nodded, thinking that was all there was to say for now. Indeed, it was; the Mandalorian half-bowed, turned and exited the clinic. Rekas giggled slightly. When Hadi turned to her, Rekas said, “For a race with the reputation of the likes of the Mandalorians, you would think them cold-hearted butchers. But him,” she looked towards the door, “I think that there’s a fine man under that armor.”

Hadi shook her head in exasperation at her sister. “Don’t start crushing on him,” she warned, “Mandalorians never take off their armor in front of others. He no doubt will not let you take it off of him. Especially the helmet. Anyway,” she continued; thinking on the idea the Mando had had, “You only met him just yesterday.” Rekas sighed longingly, “I know, but – ““But nothing.” Hadi was firm, she wouldn’t let her little sister go all moon-eyed over a Mandalorian. He would only break her heart.

_~ POV Change ~ Din Djarrin_

She exited the clinic, thinking about what she would start here on Nevarro. The manufacturing of Bacta wasn’t illegal exactly, but she would have to be careful who knew about it. The manufacturing wouldn’t be for mass production, but it would be enough for the clinic and for herself, hopefully. It would also help Mona feel like the debt to her will be paid and help keep the bacta expenses down for the clinic. A couple of targets in one shot.

The next stop would be to the bank with communications. According to the directions given to her by Dr Hadi, she was just a few minutes away from it. She walked into said bank a few minutes later. When she walked in, the first thing she noticed was that almost all the personnel were droids. That got her hackles up, something the doctor hadn’t mentioned. She walked in and looked for some one who had a brain in their head, rather than a circuit board. Din found one, a Zabrak who looked bored out of his skull. When he looked up to see her, he actually blinked a few times, before asking her what he could do for her. She said, “One of your clean computers, no trackers, no droids.” He blinked again and gestured to a console off to the side. She walked over to it and started it up. Keeping an ear on what was going on behind her, she inserted a data-chip. The data-chip held information on one of her Middle Rim accounts. Din would set it up here instead of having to go all the way back to the Middle Rim to get funds that weren’t from the Guild bounties. It wasn’t the biggest one by far, but held more credits than most people this far from the Core saw in three lifetimes.

Din smirked to herself. It also happened to once belong to a former client who had tried to backstab her. She had remonstrated with the man thoroughly. In the end, she left the bargaining table with his accounts, his life and a bloody reputation. Time to actually use the funds, rather than let them sit in a bank accruing interest for a change. The transfer “paperwork” took about four hours, and the entire account would be transferred to this branch of the Galactic Banking System with two weeks. Fine by her, so long as it did get here. She had enough funds to last her that long.

Din turned to see that the Zabrak was staring at her. She looked at him, then turned and walked out the door. She didn’t feel anything from him, but curiosity brought on by boredom. He might try to look at her information, might even have a droid look it up, but it wouldn’t do them any good. The account information was only for the Ghost Mandalorian, it held nothing else.

She made her way back to the Yards, where the Razor Crest would be waiting. On the way, she saw a dark alley that – according to her sensors – had a grate leading to the sewers. Might as well, she decided. Din went over to it and noticed it wasn’t welded shut. Din opened it and using the night-vision in her visor, managed to see that this part of the sewer system was barely big enough for a woman of her height to stand. They would have to be bent over slightly to keep their head from knocking the ceiling. She felt like exploring a little anyway.

When Din lowered herself down and closed the grating above her, she noticed the heat wasn’t as high as it was by the bazaar. She took the closed-frequency tracker from her pouch and began to try to sort her way through the maze of tunnels. It led her to a tunnel the size of the one that she had marked with the two trackers. Before she could go further though, she smelled Sulphur. It turned out that the lava river was found throughout this maze. The opening here, however, had one difference. There was a ferry droid here. Din stiffened. The droid was old and looked almost fried. For right now though, she could use it. She got into the boat. The droid seemed to perk up and beeped at her. “Down-river,” she stated. The droid beeped and began to pole the boat through the lava. While it did that, Din decided she would check her messages. If the Jawas, the Guild or even the women back at the Clinic tried to contact her, she could hear the messages through a closed link actually in her vambrace. She plugged in the code that would allow her access to her messages. There were actually two messages, one from the Jawas, and one from Karga.

The Jawas’ was simple. There had been a delay, they couldn’t meet her on Nevarro. There was more to do than they could really handle with just three tribes that were there. They asked if she would accept another time. She frowned, that would take a while to figure out; depending on what Karga said. She opened that one and nearly laughed aloud.

A bail-jumper puck was waiting for her at the Cantina. She could pick it up whenever she wanted. The message was short and to the point. Good.

The tracker had steadily blinked faster as the droid ferried her down the river. She told it to stop, where she could make out the tracker, she had left at the entrance that was closest to the bazaar. She climbed out and put a credit in the droid’s open “hand”. The credit went in and the droid seemed to collapse in on itself. It really was old and probably wouldn’t last for much longer. Din turned her thoughts away from the ferry-droid and made her way up to the surface.

She emerged from the curtained off sewer entrance to see night had fallen. The walk down the street was quiet, not many were out now. Din knew that she shouldn’t use that entrance too much, it would draw attention later on. She would find some other way. The underground lava river was promising. She wondered if it stayed level like that and had an exit out of town, maybe out of sight. That would be worth investigating later.

Din walked into the cantina that the Guild operated from about five minutes or so later. It was mostly empty. There were a couple of bounty hunters at the bar, including the one who had been by the Clinic to have his burns looked at. Karga was still there in that booth that seemed to be his unofficial public office. He looked up, startled to see her enter. He felt like he was nursing a headache from overdrinking. Her nose wrinkled scornfully. Her stride took her to the booth in a matter of moments and as she looked down at him, Karga pulled a small pouch of some kind of leather and handed it to her.

Din opened it to find a bounty puck and tracking fob. The bounty was for a Twi’lek called Qin, a bail-jumper, who had apparently been caught smuggling. She looked at Karga, nodded and turned to leave. Not a word was said. “Be seeing you,” Karga called to her back as she exited. Din ignored him as the door shut behind her. A hunt had begun.

Din returned to her Razor Crest after another five minutes worth of walking. She was ready to eat, shower, take off planet and sleep. Closing the hatch, she took the bounty puck out of the pouch and read off the last known coordinates. It was about a week away. Okay with her. Climbing to the cock-pit, she started up the engines. A few minutes after that, she was leaving Nevarro’s atmosphere and punching in the coordinates for the last known coordinates for her prey. Only when the blue blur of hyperspace was around the Crest, did Din put the autopilot on and go down to start something to eat.

She wasn’t in the mood for anything hot though. Being on Nevarro, especially on the lava river, had made her want to revisit the Hoth system again to catch a chill breeze or a gale. A meal of fruits cut up with a bed of mixed greens and a handful of nuts made a fine meal. Washing it down with a glass of water, she felt sated. Getting up, she went to the sonic shower on the upper deck. Pulling the armor and clothes off and leaving them in a pile by her armor stand, she went to clean up. Coming out of the shower, she donned the sleeping clothes.

Din didn’t fall down into bed though. First, she actually picked up each piece of armor and clean and polished each piece until it shone and no longer smelled of Sulphur. She took her clothes and left them in the sonic shower downstairs and brought the clean garments up the ladder to put away in the chest. Once that was done, she climbed _back_ down the ladder to open the special valve that would warm her bed up. She filled the slow-cooker with frozen casserole-like dish that would be her breakfast for when she woke up again, adding enough water to cover the bottom of the cooker. Then she went back up the ladder to her bed. Right now, she was still a little warm from Nevarro, but she knew that soon enough, she would be shivering. It _had_ been a long day, productive and interesting, but still _long._ She fell asleep once again, under the covers, between one deep breath and another.


	5. Chapter Four: The Hunt and the New Comrades:

**Din didn’t fall down into bed though. First, she actually picked up each piece of armor and clean and polished each piece until it shone and no longer smelled of Sulphur. She took her clothes and left them in the sonic shower downstairs and brought the clean garments up the ladder to put away in the chest. Once that was done, she climbed back down the ladder to open the special valve that would warm her bed up. She filled the slow-cooker with frozen casserole-like dish that would be her breakfast for when she woke up again, adding enough water to cover the bottom of the cooker. Then she went back up the ladder to her bed. Right now, she was still a little warm from Nevarro, but she knew that soon enough, she would be shivering. It had been a long day, productive and interesting, but still long. She fell asleep once again, under the covers, between one deep breath and another.**

It was sometime later – hours later – that Din woke. She had dreamed again, a more peaceful one than the last. Of times gone by, of family and friends long gone onto the Great March. It made her heart ache. Sighing, she levered herself out of her comfortable bed and shivered a little. She had forgotten what extreme temperature differences could do to a person. A planet like Nevarro could wreak havoc on her internal thermostat for a whole week, if she wasn’t careful.

Stretching, she made her way down to the lower deck, where her breakfast was waiting for her. The casserole-like dish actually comprised of spiced up mash that had on the top most layer, spicy sausage, peppers and cheese. It was delicious to have, spicy enough for herself and warming for someone who just wanted to go snuggling back up in the bed. She couldn’t rest though, she had work to do.

As she ate, she had the bounty puck play the information that it had available. Not much in the way of background, but it was enough to tell her exactly who was the bounty. An old _friend_. Qin the Twi’lek used to be comrade of hers, before the group that she had run with for a time had gotten more jobs that were _Imperial-like_. The job on Alzoc III had been the last shot for her. Qin and his sister Qi’an were both crazy nuts. The only one left alive from the former group that she was aware of still living, was Ran. The rest probably found out the hard way, why she had left when she had.

As the information played out about the charges, she shook her head in disgust. Qin hadn’t changed one bit it seemed. Always had been and probably until the end of his days, be a treacherous little amoeba-slug that was born on a dead TomTom.

She finished her food and turned the puck off. The tracking fob was still on the pouch. Din put the dishes into the sink and started it. Going over to her computer storage, she saw that the download was complete. In the week to come, she would look into all the information she had acquired. Some she would no doubt sell to the nearest information broker, others though, she would keep to herself. Din had no intention of letting some of the information too classified out in the open yet.

She went back up to her personal quarters to get her training tools and change into a body suit. The sleepwear wasn’t designed for training in mind. Din would do this training almost every waking cycle while she was in hyperspace. The longer the journey, the longer she would train. By the time she got out of hyperspace and was down on a planet, she would feel ready to run a Rebel Caper again. She carried the tools down and began to sort them. The specialized weighted harnesses actually tripled gravity on her, while the heavy blunted weapons would be just as heavy. Well after she triggered them of course.

She first donned the weighted harness. It was mostly circuit boards, magnets and straps, didn’t look like anything anyone would assume was anything other than some weird full-body weapons harness crossed with a mesh tunic. It went over her entire torso down to her knees and extended down to her wrists. The thing could be voice activated and had a built-in heath monitoring system. It wouldn’t do for her to die because she over used this equipment. It was also one of the last things her and her _Buir_ had worked on together, before he died.

Din closed her eyes and wrenched her mind from that depressing line of thoughts. Maybe one day, she could think of her adopted father without feeling like screaming to the stars in anguish and massacring anything that even looked Imperial, without being in meditation. But that day wasn’t today and she knew that he would scold her for wasting valuable training time with thoughts that wouldn’t help her focus.

“Oya,” the ancient word of Mando’a and a flick of turning the power on, was the start of her training that cycle. For two hours, she stretched, did calisthenics and gymnastics. There wasn’t enough room to run, but constant pace-sprinting would do in a pinch. The next two hours saw she refamiliarizing herself slowly with every weapon she didn’t regularly use: the _kad_ [sword], the _bes’bev_ [the Mandalorian War Flute] _,_ and what her _Buir_ had affectionately called “the _Dinuir Haran Redalur”_ [Almost Literally: Give Them Hell Dance].

That martial stance had only ever been used a couple of times in combat and only once with witnesses. It had been one of the closest calls during her time with the Rebellion. Almost all her comrades were too wounded to either fight or flee from the oncoming Storm Troopers. A surprise ambush on some back-water planet during a supply run. She could have run with a few others, but it was not her Way to abandon even comrades who doubted her like they had. The squad of had watched with stunned amazement as she ripped through the Stormtroopers like they were standing still. The blaster fire never seemed to touch her. They couldn’t lay a hand on her. And when she added the _beskad_ of her _Buir_ , the sixty Troopers seemed go down in a blink or two. It was also the only times she would really use her trump card in combat, as subtle as possible. It wouldn’t have done to be known as a Force-user. The squad-mates that were able to survive their injuries treated her from then on with fearful respect and never spoke in detail about the fight – or she never heard any rumors suggesting that they had.

“Sha'kajir,” she gasped. That command was for taking the extra-gravity off, lightening her to the point that she felt that she could float. Translated into Basic it meant Truce or cease-fire. Flicking the power off and laying aside the weapons and the harness, she went through a cool-off workout that included stretching and gymnastics that allowed her to stretch parts of her body that would tighten up if she wasn’t careful. Din heard her stomach growl slightly. She knew from experience that eating right now, would not go over well with her body just yet.

So, Din ignored her hunger for the moment and gathered up the training supplies. She carried them up to her personal quarters to store them away. Din hopped into the sonic shower, clothes and all and let the thing clean her up. If she didn’t have to, she would subject herself to a chill that would happen if she trained to the point she sweated in space. It only took a minute or so, before Din was walking out of the shower and making her way back down to the lower deck. On the way, though, she scooped up the data-pad that had been attached to her stand-alone in her room and her belt that still held her pouches and blasters. Din carried them down the ladder and activated the table and the bench-chair beside it. Setting the belt and data-pad down on the bench, she activated one of the table’s main settings, on a hidden part just where the table was attached to the wall. There a cord ran to her big computer on the lower deck, through the ceiling, so she could actually read the information while sitting down doing something else. She usually didn’t have to do this. Most of the time, the information that she had available for her Hunts could fit on a holo-disk. Now, though she had to go through two data-chip blocks. That could take more than the week she had getting to Qin.

‘ _Well,’_ she thought to herself as she got up to get something to appease her stomach – which was now feeling like it was yanking on her spine. The mental image of her stomach pulling at her spine like a Noble Lady ringing a bell-pull, with her brain the ever patient, ever-put-upon butler; it nearly made her choke with laughter. ‘ _might as well serve double duty: serve the ravenous lady and look at the information from the blocks.’_

The meal turned into a dish of meat – that tasted like venison – with a kind of bean and oil dressing over a heaping pile of greens; with a jar of water. Din ate as she read. There was some information she skimmed and marked as ‘Archive – Useful Junk?’, because there was no interest to her there. It was mostly schematics for the facilities themselves. There were some nuggets of information though. Some that actually be of worth later on.

She finished her meal and put the dishes by the sink. – It still had clean dishes from earlier in it – and began to put up said-clean dishes. Putting the dirty dishes in, she decided not to start it yet. Din was still working on that jar of water after all. So, she went back to looking at the information.

The Imperial installations turned out to be important in only one way. It had been set up only two standard years before the Fall and had been part of a plan to set up a colony – and bases – on the planet below. The plan had never come to fruition, according to the reports. While the planet could sustain life and did, and had tons of natural resources to be harvested; the Imperials were being distracted by the Rebellion and in-fighting too much. So, projects like these simply fell by the wayside and most of the men were withdrawn to work on other “worthy” projects, until a more peaceful time. The ones that had remained – at least the officers – were those that had somehow pissed off a superior officer in some minor way. Din would see if the personnel files included that.

When she pulled up the personnel files, she was surprised that they included pictures for the Stormtroopers. She knew that the Stormtroopers had been made up of clones, but she had no idea that there were so many types being used. As she looked at them though, she saw that there were parts of their disciplinary and medical records that didn’t make sense. Din looked at them and couldn’t quite piece it together. Something was there in between the words put into reports. They were vague, not specific at all. Whatever it was, it slowly put her hackles up. Something was really rotten here; she didn’t know if it was just generic Imperial stench or if it was something else even worse. The officers’ files had her wrinkling her nose in disgust. One – the one she had caught sleeping – was an abusive bastard to his troops and coworkers and had actually been demoted on the charge of disorderly conduct. Imperial Code for a drunkard who showed his ass to the wrong person. The other was a lazy somebody who had cost a group of fellow officers personally some credits in an unbecoming pastime. In other words, a gambler who lost big time.

Din shrugged and put the Officer’s files in the ‘Archive – Dead Meat’, the Stormtroopers she put in the ‘Archive – Mystery’. That archive was a little bigger than she liked. Some of the things she had seen even before the Rebellion – even before that Night – didn’t make sense, didn’t Feel right. The next bit of file she pulled up was communication files. That was where she struck another mystery. She knew that the Empire wasn’t as gone as it seemed to be, but the communication files showed that it wasn’t even hiding the fact that is still existed. There were more communication going on in the span of last standard year, than there was before the Fall of the Empire. Those files gave coordinates as to where they went. She didn’t think she would have the time to read those right now. She had a whole week. But the coordinates, those she put in a list format.

This was when she pulled out the data-pad that she had gotten from the New Republic, to see if there were some matching coordinates. And there was, quite a few. About ten percent of the locations on the data-pad matched the list completely. Those Din marked to review, first. Closing off the table-top’s holo-disks, she got up and unplugged the attachment from computer to table. That deactivated the connection and allowed her to turn off the big computer. _‘There were no locations on the way to Qin, but if I take another scenic route on the return, I could take on a supposed abandon factory. If I do, I will need to refuel before I take off for the return flight.’_

Din put the refueling station and storage facility that had been taken care of into the Archived part on the data pad. ‘ _Two down, a galaxy to go,’_ she smirked to herself. When she looked up the alarm and saw that she had a few more days left in traveling time before she even got to the planet Qin was on, she decided that she would eat another meal. Another meal, that was a quick ration soup supplemented with some frozen spices and vegetables, under her belt; Din decided to practice using the trump card until she went for another sleep cycle.

Putting the dishes in the now-full sink, she started the sonic function to start cleaning them; then putting away the bench-chair and table, she made it a clear space. With everything put up, she went up to the personal quarters. Changing into sleep clothes and laying the body suit out, she snuggled into the bed-nest. Laying out flat, she folded her hands over her heart. Breathing in deeply, then out, she started working on the mirror-diamond state.

The Mirror-Diamond state was a mental shielding technique that allowed any stupid _darjetii_ to come looking for her and never find her. It was two-phase technique. The first part a series of mirrors, shaped in a way to reflect what was around her physically and metaphysically. The second part is to make them as multi-faceted as a diamond and just as hard. She had been practicing this technique for years after she witnessed a phenomenal event, where a crystal seemed to vanish in thin air. Din had looked around it and finally had to touch it, for her to believe that the crystal was still there and not somehow somewhere else.

Back then, she had still had her _Buir,_ crippled as he was from that Night, and it was he that helped her create this state from the inspiration that the crystal gave her. Din had Felt the Searcher before, had Felt them come closer to finding her and had been frightened near out of her wits. Her _Buir_ , who knew more about the Lore of Mandolore than most other Mandalorians, insisted she master a technique to hide herself from the Searcher. He had told her of the _darjetii_ that seemed to be in the shadows – if not also out in the open – manipulating things so that the Mandalorians could be their tools. She could hear in this state his lecture on such things: “ ** _The_ darjetii _are called the Sith by_ aruetiise _. They are an ancient evil that has been around before even the Old Republic. Before the first of those who would become the first_ Mando’ade _first came to Mandalore, the Sith had already started their campaign to control and use us. Their enemies, the_ jetii _– an order of powerful sorcerers – would become our enemies. There were some among the_ jetii _who were honorable though. One_ Mando’ade _actually became a_ jetii _, before coming back home to Mandalore…”_**

The memory of that lecture, as he taught her how to do the first steps of meditation, led her down into dreams of training with her _Buir_ , everything from hunting to weaving to forging to cooking to the most important – from a Mandalorian’s perspective – art of fighting and war. Here, in her dreams, she could relive life with her _Buir_ , her _vod_ , and even her biological parents. Here, in the sanctity of her mind, she performed the Ritual of Remembrance and just before entering Deep Sleep, she would Echo out into the Void: _Ni su'cuyi, gar kyr'adyc, ni partayli, gar darasuum ner cyare'se._ {Translation: I'm still alive, but you are dead. I remember you, so you are eternal, my loved ones.}

And so, the week passed, a small routine that would happen every time she went into Hyperspace for an extended period of time. The only things that Din did that was an exception to the routine was fabricate a holster for newly modified disrupter blaster and contact the Jawas on that second day. She apologized for not getting back with them sooner, but she was on the Hunt again. She explained that while she might not be able to meet them on Nevarro anytime soon, she would be going by an old Imperial factory that was supposed to be abandoned. Din expressed the knowledge that she didn’t yet know if the was true or not, but asked if the Jawas wished to meet her there instead. Din sent the message along with the coordinates for her newest Imperial target. For the rest of the time, it was the routine of practicing, studying, eating and sleeping.

[The Planet]

It had been near the beginning of her waking cycle and drawing down to sunset on the surface, when Din landed in a hangar as close to the outskirts as she could manage. Telling the mechanic on duty that she only needed a refuel and he was to keep any droids away from her ship. Din handed over two-thousand credits and said, “There will be an extra thousand, if you are done by the time, I come back.” With that she strode out the main hangar door. She knew that he was startled by the abruptness, but she wanted to get in and get out fast. Din also knew, that he would do as she had told him to, as he would want that extra thousand.

When she exited the hangar, she pulled the tracking fob out and looked at it. Holding it out, she rotated in a half circle slowly. Following the slightly faster beat, she put it back into her belt and began to stride down the near empty street. Din was on the lookout, because even without the fob, she could tell you where Qin liked to hang out. She headed for the closest Twi’lek healing baths. Some of them, doubled as exotic dance clubs, where the dancers performed all kinds of dances.

The fob allowed her to rule out the first one. That one was a legitimate establishment. The second one though, that one had the fob beeping so loud, she could swear that the occupants could hear the thing inside. When she looked around for a second entrance, she found it in the alley just ahead of her. Din knew Qin always went armed, she wanted to do this with minimum bloodshed.

Well, she had, until she saw who were dancing in the cages on the off stages. Then she damn near saw red. Slaves, Twi’lek slaves that looked to be teenagers, with barely anything on. Two females and a male. The pale-green little female had sparkling points on her face and there were welts on her back freshly bleeding. **That. Was. IT!**

Before her rage could overtake her, she reigned back in and made sure to spot her Prey first. There he was, eyeing the center-stage dancer, a red-skinned and tattooed Twi’lek female. Her disgust for him, high as it was, just left the atmosphere. The purple pig was drooling.

Din didn’t care about giving honorable warning to prey like this. They weren’t worth the effort. She _moved._ Qin didn’t have any warning. She shocked him unconscious before he even realized there was someone behind him. The musicians playing in a corner halted mid-note, the dancers all stopped. There were about twenty or so patrons in the place. A hush fell on the room.

An overweight Twi’lek with dark purple skin stomped in from where the front would be and barked, “Whose causing trouble in here?” All the patrons were looking at me, while I was looking at the fat one. He saw me and his eyes widened. “You the Proprietor?” Din asked as calmly as she could. He nodded sharply. “Good.” With a near blurred motion, her hand, which at first had been going for the cuffs to put on Qin, instead went to the newly modified disruptor blaster at the small of her back. Drawing it fast, she fired one shot, hitting the bastard right in the mouth. He vanished in a swirl of sparks and an echoing scream.

All the patrons pulled back from her, where she still loomed over the slightly toasted Qin. Din looked up at the trembling Twi’lek on the stage. “Do you have access to the keys?” she tilted her head slightly in the direction of the caged teenagers, who were huddling as far from me as they could. The Twi’lek on-stage gulped, nodded and skittered off stage to get them out of the former Proprieter’s clothes.

Din got the cuffs out and put them on Qin’s limp wrists, securing his arms behind his back. The woman had found the keys and with Din’s order to open the cages, did so with haste. The teenaged Twi’lek still huddled in the corners, eyes wide with fright. The older dancer said something to them too softly for Din’s helmet to pick up, but whatever it was, was enough to get the trio out of their cages and onto the floor.

Din focused on the other patrons and the musicians who were stiff as carbonite statues, too petrified to move. “Will anyone of you say anything to anyone about this?” A mass headshake was her only answer. “Good. Now scram.” There was a stampede out the various doors, mostly side entrances. She turned back to the red-skinned Twi’lek and the three youngsters. Her voice seemed to lose whatever edge of anger she had used on the Patrons and Proprietor, “Will you be safe here?” The quartet looked startled and the youngsters looked at the elder of the group. She shook her head and said, “I may be, but these three will not. They were orphaned slaves from the former Jabba the Hutt’s crime empire. They were bought a few years ago and brought here.”

Din thought it over, then “Gather your things, now,” she ordered. The youngsters ran for behind the stage, no doubt where the slaves were kept. Din looked at the woman, who looked tearfully resigned. She begged, “Please don’t take them away from me. They are the only people who I care for here. The others,” she took a deep breath, “the others that were here are gone, one way or another.” She might have continued to plead with Din, if Din hadn’t interrupted her with a “That order was for you, too.” The hope that shone from her eyes, made Din’s heart ache for the woman. She was probably a slave too. It didn’t matter that the New Republic was trying to stamp out slavery where they could find it, but Din knew as with all bureaucracy, it would take a lot of time, before it was even driven completely underground and beyond the Middle Rim. To what it was like during the Old Republic.

While the former slaves gathered their things, Din found another set of keys in the former Proprietor’s garments. She opened the door that the Proprietor had come from, to find an obnoxiously decorated office. There were some real valuables in it though. Those could go to the former slaves for helping them on their way. She looked at the computer console. Opening it up, she found something that looked legitimate, but if you read between the lines, you would be able to tell that this “Twi’lek Healing Baths” establishment was part of a prostitution ring.

Din began taking snap shots from her helmet to look over later. It might help her in the long run someday. That took about as much time as it took the four Twi’lek to come out from behind the stage, each carrying a bag and with actual clothes on, even the little green-skinned teen with welts on her back. That wouldn’t do, the injuries that is.

Din withdrew from her medicine pouch, a specialized bacta spray and tossed it to the woman. As she caught it, Din gestured to the younglings, she said, “Treat the wounds with that. It is a bacta spray. After that, come help me strip this office,” turning back to the task at hand, she began opening chests. The two teenagers that weren’t freshly wounded, shyly approached to help. They flinched a little when she made a sudden move to them, but she ignored it for now.

She never touched them, she would only hand them things. After a few minutes, the other two joined them and in ten minutes, the office was striped of anything valuable. Din returned and for good measure shocked Qin again. He wouldn’t be waking before she put him in carbonite. He’d wake up feeling like shit only to be facing the New Republic. Turning to the four Twi’lek who were shifting from foot to foot, all watching her, Din told them, “I have to turn in this scum to the Bounty Hunters Guild. I will give you a lift off planet. I have to make one other stop before Nevarro. Will you follow me?” She lifted Qin onto her shoulder as if he weighed nothing. The oldest Twi’lek looked at her and said, “You really are a Mandalorian. We will follow you.”

Din didn’t wait for another moment, she walked out the side entrance. She led them through as many back alleys as she could, thanking her sense of direction, as the small group made it back to the hangar where the Razor Crest was, with very little sighting of other people. Knowing what she did about security and police forces though, she wasn’t going to dawdle. Opening the hatch remotely, startling the mechanic who had been detaching the fuel pipe going into her hull, she smiled. Quick man.

She ushered the quartet up into the ship and gestured for the mechanic to wait a moment. Din took Qin off her shoulder and shoved him in the carbonite freezer. Going off the ship to approach the mechanic, she saw that he was staring at her. Handing over two thousand instead of the promised one, Din simply said, “For your silence.” And returned to her ship. Din wanted to get off planet as soon as possible. The carbonite freezer was done and Qin was completely secured. The four now-passengers stared at the slab with a kind of horror. Let them, she needed to start the ship.

Din climbed up into the cockpit and began the take off process. In a couple of minutes, they were leaving the atmosphere. Setting in the coordinates for the newest Imperial target, she started the calculations. Four minutes later, the blue whirling of Hyperspace surrounded her once more. The alarm said it would be half a day before they reached their next destination.

She nodded in satisfaction and made her way back down to the lower deck. Din ignored the four Twi’lek for now and instead went over to Qin. She took the slab and hung it on the rack made for such things. Turning, she walked over to the stove. Turning it on, she began to gather the ingredients to make a bigger portion of stew than usual. After all, she snorted mentally, she was feeding five instead of one – or two, in the case of innocent bounties on board as she started a second pot. This one of a grain that was filling and cooked well with water. Din would have made soup, but she didn’t have enough bowls for that. Stew with the rice would be thick enough to be served on a plate as well as a bowl.

As the savory smells wafted through the silent lower deck, she heard stomachs growl. She didn’t turn to look, but she thought that the young male was shifting nervously from foot to foot again. Only when the stew was starting to boil and the rice had been put on a less heated part of the stove top to cook the rest of the way, did she turn to the Twi’lek. The green-one was hiding behind the woman while both the deep-gold colored female and male looked at her with a little nervousness still in their features. Din looked at them and crossed to the old medical unit. She opened the door-hatch to reveal it. Gesturing inside, she said “There is more bacta in there for wounds still untreated. And blankets.” Walking over to the hatch that led to the restroom on this deck, Din told them about what was in it, as well.

Looking over at the group, she said “You might want to move.” That was when she activated the table and bench-chair. The chair that usually had prisoners, who she didn’t freeze in carbonite, swiveled sideways to face the table. The Twi’lek had backed away from the table and seating with surprised looks. Din then opened her storage unit that held her camping supplies. A collapsible chair added enough seating for everyone to fit comfortably at the table. Might as well discuss what the former slaves wanted to do with their lives, where they wanted to go. The stew would take a little while longer.

Din looked at the oldest and gestured her to sit. She did. “The food won’t be ready for a time, so we may as well discuss what you wish to do.” The red-skinned woman looked startled. ‘ _Why is it,’_ Din thought to herself in exasperation, ‘ _that everyone seems surprised by me?’_ The woman seemed to shake her thoughts loose and said, “You should first know our names. I am Jiljoo’ame. The boy is Bril’ablen and his sister is Seela’ablen. The little one is Nima’ahan. They do not wish to be dancers, neither do I, not anymore. I don’t know anything else though, so if I must, I will continue to dance.”

She gazed at Jiljoo’ame for a long moment as her thoughts raced in a score of different directions. Din looked over at the three youngsters, hovering in the background. “What do you wish to do with your lives?” They looked startled and shrugged helplessly. The young man – Bril’ablen – said hesitatingly, “I would like to fly a star-ship,” while his sister said almost too softly to heard, “I would like to stay with my brother.” The pale-green youngster – Nima’ahan said nothing, but instead clutched at Jiljoo’ame’s sleeve. A plan – not fully formed came to Din then – a way for each of them to get what they wanted, keep them protected, cash-in one of the many favors owed to her by a New Republican contact, and establish a legitimate line of investing for her almost innumerable accounts across the galaxy.

Din got up slowly and went over to the stove. The stew, when stirred, showed it was almost done, just needed a few more minutes to make doubly sure it was safe to eat. After that was done, Din turned to the group that looked nervous. “I may have a solution for all those desires,” taking a data-chip from her pouch – she always kept a few on her to give out her contact information to those she felt would need it, use it and keep it secret – and held it out to Jiljoo’ame. As the Twi’lek took it, Din continued, “There is a New Republican officer who owes me quite the favor. I have no true need of it myself, but I need to cash in on it, while I still know where he is stationed. Right now, he is stationed on the planet, Naboo,” here she pointedly looks at the sibling pair, “Part of his command is a courier system. There you can fly almost all the time, but if you find that space flying isn’t for you and flying still is, Naboo has plenty of opportunities for such flyers. Your sister can remain with you as a co-pilot or just a companion for the journey to help keep things on track.”

Turning just as pointedly to Jiljoo’ame and Nima’ahan, “You may not wish to do exotic dances, but would you be willing to teach how to do such dances? Other dances you know? If not, can you teach stretches and help with massages?” Jiljoo’ame looked startled and said “Yes, I can do all of that. And would be willing to do that.” Din nodded as she continued, “Until you know what you want to do Nima’ahan,” she shrank back trying to hide behind Jiljoo’ame. Din took no physical notice, “I would recommend you stay with Jiljoo’ame.”

All the Twi’lek looked at her with a kind of stunned awe that made her slightly uncomfortable to see directed at her. She turned to the stew and saw that it was done. Taking out the dishes and utensils – she barely had enough forks and spoons for everyone including her to use – Din began to ladle out the rice and put the stew on top of it. Sticking a utensil into each one, she placed the food on the table. Reaching over to the cabinet, she got out enough cups and mugs for them to drink from. She took them over to the table and told them the water from the sink was safe for drinking.

That was when Seela’ablen – the yellow-skinned girl – asked almost just as softly as before, “Are you not eating?” Din turned her head to look back at them and smirked. Turning back, she undid the connections that held her right thigh piece in place. She began ladling her portion onto the piece of armor. The group seemed to choke in surprise behind her. Her huff of amusement, followed by her statement “Mandalorians never eat with other people outside of their immediate family. I shall eat in the cockpit. Please, don’t disturb me.” And with that, she turned from the now off stove and climbed up the ladder.

A sealed door and blacked out windows allowed her to devour her meal in semi-peace. Not entire peace, because there were still four complete strangers that were not bounties on her ship. That didn’t need to be really secured. She finished her meal and chewed the last bite with her helmet on. The personal quarters were hidden anyway. They had no way of knowing what was there and what wasn’t. She didn’t need to sleep yet, but they probably would feel an adrenaline crash soon.

With that thought in mind, she unsealed the hatch and came down the ladder. To her surprise the teenagers were curled up on the floor in a pile, while Jiljoo’ame was starting to wash the dishes. She looked up and smiled apologetically at her. “The children didn’t wish to take your bed and I don’t think you would wish to share with me.” Din shifted uncomfortably. “I won’t be using that bed anytime soon and if they feel like they can’t sleep unless they are in a pile like that – well – I have a solution for that too.”

Placing my thigh armor in the sink, closing the lid and starting the sonic function; Din went over to the table and seating and put them up. the sound of the things sliding back into their unused position had the teens shooting up, looking around wildly. She looked over at them, then turned to the camping supplies closet. Din placed the collapsible chair inside and got out the extra cold winter kit, which included a very thick mattress bag, that could either zipped up like a cocoon or unzipped completely to lie flat. That thing had been able to keep her slightly warm even on Hoth. As she laid that out on the floor, she gave no sign that she noticed the stares from the Twi’lek. Getting to her feet, she went back to the storage unit and got out a number of cushions and blankets. They were in various layers of thickness all of it and some were so old, they were near threadbare. But together they made a comfortable, if mismatched nest for the teenagers to sleep in.

Jiljoo’ame was told in no uncertain terms to go rest on the bunk and all three teens were told to back to sleep. Din reminded them all that there would be a stop before Naboo and that they would be settling down soon. When she had looked again at the coordinates, she had seen that there was a small wanna-be Canto Bight town. There they could sell the valuables they had taken with them; get credits they would need to live on Naboo for a while or even for a savings account or two. When asked where she would be going, she didn’t imagine their uncertain worry when she said she would be running an errand or two that they _really_ didn’t want to know about. “It isn’t anything to worry about,” she tried to reassure the group as they settled down to nap, “I just have an itch for some violence, and there is a place near this town that just happens to supply the scratch.”

Din didn’t know why, but the Twi’lek as a whole did not look reassured at that either. She shrugged mentally as she got her thigh armor with the sonic sink and reattached it. It wasn’t really her fault, if they looked uneasy as they settled to take their naps. Din went back up to the cock-pit. Sealing it back up, she looked at the alarm. About three or so hours to go. Plenty of time to get a little nap in herself. Din was looking forward to the Hunt.


	6. Chapter Five: The Scenic Route to Naboo & The Return to Nevarro:

**Chapter Five: The Scenic Route to Naboo & The Return to Nevarro:**

**Din didn’t know why, but the Twi’lek as a whole did not look reassured at that either. She shrugged mentally as she got her thigh armor with the sonic sink and reattached it. It wasn’t really her fault, if they looked uneasy as they settled to take their naps. Din went back up to the cock-pit. Sealing it back up, she looked at the alarm. About three or so hours to go. Plenty of time to get a little nap in herself. Din was looking forward to the Hunt.**

The planet was something like Nevarro with a couple of exceptions. The planet had multiple little oceans of fresh-water that was near black, they were so deep. The cliffs that lines these oceans were mottled green from moss and algae. Perched on one of these cliffs was the wanna-be Canto Bight. It wasn’t anywhere near as luxurious as the real one, but it made a valiant effort. The clientele was too poor for the real Canto Bight, but they could afford this place. And it was at the outskirts, the hangar the farthest inland that Din landed the Razor Crest.

Din handed Jiljoo’ame an extra comm from her “not as secure” gun safe and told the group as a whole, “While I am out scratching that violent itch, go find a few different pawn shops. Sell the valuables there and keep the credits. When I am done, I will call. Be back on the ship by then. Clear?” They all nodded and crept quietly together coming from behind her as she descended the ramp. The mechanic that had approached them, leered at all the females – well the known ones – and bowed in over the top subservience to her. “Welcome to our humble –,” Din cut him off, “Cut the sales pitch. Top off the fuel and keep your eyes to yourself.” The man seemed to trip over himself and tried to hide the glare he was directing at her.

“Where are the nearest pawn shops? My attendants,” a negligible gesture towards the Twi’lek behind her, “have some items I no longer care for to sell. Tell them where the addresses and directions are to these locations and I will not remove those glaring eyes from your skull.” The man recoiled and bowed up and down in fear now. “For your services,” Din tossed a pouch at him. It held five-thousand credits. “Keep droids away from my ship,” was the parting shot as she left the hangar. She could Feel the man’s greed and terror. The man was a pig, but not so much of one as to not realize, he had better do as he was paid to and keep himself to himself. The mechanic had seen some people come in here with slaves before that were very territorial over their property. He thought that a Mandalorian master would be ten times worse than those other owners. He would be right, if she actually owned slaves.

Din looked around and saw a rental place for transportation. As she approached, she saw to her satisfaction that they were renting speeders. And one caught her eye immediately. A sleek thing, it was an older model and was a dim brown. Perfect, Din approached the proprietor of the place and stated, “I will take the old dun speeder on an overland trip. How much for an all-day affair?” The clerk at the booth table – a rangy Human – glanced at the speeder in question and said “That piece of junk? You can outright buy it for a thousand.” Din handed over a thousand credits and stated “Go get the deed of ownership.” The idiotic clerk didn’t know what she was all-but stealing now. His boss would probably be infuriated with the moron, but Din didn’t care. That was the amount usually for a rental, not an outright sale in a place like this.

The clerk came back with the deed and gave it over. Nodding to signal the end of their interaction, Din went to the speeder. It was in real good condition, considering where it was. Starting it up, she zoomed out of the rental place and down the streets. She was streaking out of the city limits and toward the old Imperial factory in a matter of minutes.

It took about an hour to get to the factory and it indeed looked abandoned. She would definitely investigate. It could be there was some more scrap that the Jawas could use. Din approached on the speeder and left it hidden behind a small hill of rocks that were just two meters from a hole in the wall of the building. It looked like the attack had been at least months ago, maybe even longer. She frowned to herself. Keeping one hand on her blaster, she crept inside, through the hole.

There were no sounds here, not really. It was as silent as a tomb. She didn’t let up her guard as she went through empty halls and in disarrayed assembly lines. It looked like the factory had been primarily used in the making of AT-STs. This place was a mystery now. Abandoned, maybe. Attacked, definitely. But by whom? The hole in the wall was definitely caused by an external explosion, she could see the evidence of that, but again by whom? Other Imperials didn’t make sense and Rebels would have blown this thing to smithereens. That was when she heard it. A ship!

There was a ship approaching the factory. As she passed through what from the look of it was the loading platforms and hangars for carrying the AT-STs onto ships, she climbed and leaped into a hiding space where she was hidden by shadows and a partially blaster-burned wall. What felt like an eternity later, the ship had landed just inside the hangar. She peeked out to see what was going on. Those were not Imperials, but they weren’t much better in her opinion. Smugglers at the very least and it must be for something really big for there to be such secrecy and an out of the way place. Most smugglers wouldn’t want to hang out in some semi-demolished scrap pile like this place. She heard what sounded like another pair of ships approach. Was it a fleet landing or a meeting?

She watched with narrow eyes as the next two ships landed. The crew came out. It seemed that they were here for a meeting. They all were making preparations for camp and relaxing. It was a mixed bag of Humans and mostly Human-Hybrids aliens. So, the meeting wasn’t fully attended yet. Who were they waiting on? What had she stumbled across now, in her quest to wipe out the Imperial remnant for good? She got her answer partially some twenty minutes later. The sound of a speeder approaching made her frown deepen. Who would be meeting out here from the wanna-be Canto Bight? The answer to that was a lean and greying Human with a humorless smile, dressed like a Core-born. When she began to listen, her frown became a scowl of anger.

The Core-born Human complaining about a few people who were being a nuisance. In particular, some old Rebels. The names he mentioned didn’t mean anything to her, but the tone just made her want to shoot the little shit. Finally, he seemed to run out of hot air venting his spleen and got down to business. He wanted to hire this small fleet of mercenaries to help him with a few errands in the name of the First Order. If they did the jobs well, he would see to it that they were paid handsomely.

Well, the jobs he talked about seemed more along the lines of what bounty hunters usually did, so why didn’t the bastard just put out bounty pucks on his enemies? There were some hunters who wouldn’t care what bounty they picked. They would ask no questions. But there were some jobs that got her attention. One of the jobs was to take select children from their families and bring them somewhere. The location had yet to be determined.

The mercenaries, seemingly more intelligent than the Core-born asked questions. The answers interested Din as well. She would send this information to another one of her New Republican contacts, this one an old retired Rebel himself that still commanded respect at the Hub he lived by. He could get it to the proper places without anyone knowing who had dug up the information in the first place. The conversation was continuing, but she no longer cared.

The mercenaries were going to die and the Core-born bastard would too. After he answered _her_ questions. Din eyed the group. They seemed to wish to spend at least a day here and would lift off to start the jobs. There was – now that she could see all of them and there were no life forms registering to be there in the ships, some forty mercs. She started to move out of her hiding spot. She could kill them all, but Din didn’t want to get injured. Din would be still be sharing the Razor Crest with strangers after all.

She looked around to see if she could use anything around. That was when she noticed the Control Room. Din made her way over to it. There she found the first corpses. Two rotting, bloated things that resembled men. It looked like they had been shot multiple times. _‘Can’t exactly blame whoever did,’_ she thought, looking down at the dead Imps. Because even though the clothes were just as bad as the bodies, she could make out the Imperial insignias on the shoulders. Didn’t matter.

Din turned her eyes to the controls. Most were damaged beyond use, but the emergency lock down procedures seemed to be in working condition. She checked to see if it had power. It did. Smiling with her bloodlust rising, she initiated Lock Down. The huge doors that had let the mercenaries land shut with a resounding boom.

The shouts of confusion and other sounds of chaos coming from her prey was enough to make her realize that these mercs were in their own way, near as stupid as their prospective client. They were getting flashlights and glowing rods and turning them on; spinning around looking for their enemies. Those lights were targets and made the mercs even bigger targets.

That was when she noticed that some of them had brains, they had guns trained on the shadows and were seeming to be making their way to her location. They would be looking for the enemies – not knowing there was only one – and for the control booth to reopen the doors. ‘ _Them, first,’_ she thought. Taking her rifle off her back, she didn’t use the disruptor feature, instead turning on the blaster setting. Shifting her helmet’s vision to infrared, she began to aim. Her rifle could shoot at a fairly decent clip, the smart team – all five – were gunned down before they knew what was happening. The screams that were coming from the others, didn’t help her bloodlust levels.

Her next targets were the lights, shooting them and sending all but her into mottled darkness. It wasn’t complete darkness, for there were holes everywhere. The mercs could escape those ways, but she doubted they had the brains to. Merc companies like these were a credit a dozen and stupid to boot. The next target was the Core-bastard, she used a stunning blast from her hip blaster on him. It worked like a charm. He went down and stayed down. The mercs that were still alive numbered at thirty-five now.

She picked them off one by one; going first for those running for the ships. She didn’t want to damage those too badly. Din wanted to see what the Jawas could make of them. The blasters that the mercs had were shooting everywhere around her, but they couldn’t manage to see her. After all, they were blinded by the darkness and she had her infrared vision.

When all were down and dead – with the exception of the Core-bastard – she used her grapple rope for getting down from her perch faster. With that she went straight to the now moaning prey. A couple of seconds found him with his hands cuffed behind his back. Using the grapple again, she disengaged it from her vambrace and used it as a leash/noose. When he woke up all the way, he wouldn’t be going anywhere. And just for good measure she stunned him again, this time with a little more power behind it. Now, Din could continue looking around at her leisure.

First thing first, she went back to the control booth and turned off the Lock Down initiative. That reopened the doors, letting in more light. Din tried to look for any kind of schematics, but they had been destroyed with blasters. She shrugged to herself, it wasn’t that she had any interest in the factory itself, except the mystery of who had gotten here first.

Din walked around to the booth’s entrance and found a section of pipes that seemed to cover power lines just inside the wall. If she followed them, perhaps she could find records, maybe a shipping manifest or two. It took her a few minutes of following the cables to find what looked like a section of rooms. Most looked like they had held generators. That is until whomever got in and took a few explosives to the things.

It took nearly an hour of search the entire factory, before she found the records. The power was still there, just enough for her to turn on one console. A few other consoles sparked and arced with power. So, Din decided to be as quick as she could be. Scanning through what she could, she only found the last records. The factory had actually lasted until two months after the Fall, before – and this was the only incomplete file in the system she had access to – there was a registered attack. The attackers were unidentified, either because they were truly unknown or they had left none alive to report a description.

_‘Well, this was a near waste of time,’_ Din thought to herself as she made her way back to the loading area, where that Core-bastard should be awake by now. And probably sore as well.

When she had arrived, she ignored the Core-bastard who was yelling profanities at the world, so wrapped up in his own emotions, he didn’t see her walking up one of the ship’s ramps. In the ship, she made her way to the cockpit. It was a newer model – almost off the assembly lines new – that had communications system that would help her contact the Jawas. As she started up the communications to do so, Din wondered if the Jawas wanted her to wait to question the Core-bastard when they could watch. They sometimes did.

The Jawas didn’t answer her hail exactly. Instead Din heard the babbling of Jawas outside. They must have landed earlier and snuck closer to wait for her. She stopped trying to hail them from the communications on the ship and went back out to meet them. A small group – maybe ten or so of them were poking the Core-bastard with long sticks, the soon to be dead man shrieking and trying to get away from.

“ _[Greetings,]”_ she said. The Jawas turned to her and chittered greetings back. The Core-bastard turned to see what the Jawas were looking at and saw her. She tilted her head to the side a little. This was the first time she had literally made someone pale that fast and – from the new smell that made the Jawas back away from him complaining – shit themselves. She ignored that for now, instead continuing her greetings, “ _[What was the delay for? Anything I should worry about?]”_ She wanted to know if something unfortunate had occurred. “ _[No, no, no! There was just too much work to do for three tribes to do in a few days. We managed to get everything stripped down. The only things left were the dead meat and some parts of the buildings. Another problem was there was too much!]”_ The Jawa who was the spokesperson for today went on to explain that the Jawa Collective had actually settled for a couple more days than planned on the moon with the storage facility to strip it of all the things that they had wanted and that the refueling station had been remodeled for the Jawa’s use. They had left one regular part of the refueling station for her use, since she had a contract with them.

Din was almost touched by the Jawa’s actions, but she squelched the feeling down. She glanced at the soon-to-be corpse who was trying to get the grapple rope off his neck, no doubt so he could run for the speeder. After the Jawa’s finished explaining what had delayed them, she said, “ _[We will talk of the exchange of services after a while. If you wish, you may have whatever in this factory you want. I will be questioning this Dead Meat-to be in the meantime.]”_ The Jawas as a group laughed and all but one ran off into the depths of the factory. The one that remained, found a blanket from the former mercenaries’ supplies and used it as a seat. Din turned to the Core-bastard at last.

“You will answer every question I ask you, truthfully and completely. If you don’t, I will have to punish you.” He tried to look brave and haughty, but that was kind of difficult for a man to pull off when he smells like shit. “First question,” Din began as she hit the recording button on her vambrace that connected to her helmet, “What is your name?” The Core-bastard seemed to want to refuse, but thought the better of it, “Seno Tupid” he replied. “What is your business with the First Order?” Here, the now named Seno went silent for a moment too long for Din’s liking.

One of her throwing knives made its way from sheath, to hand to Tupid’s left shoulder. He screamed and fell to his knees. Where he was located at the time, made the noose tighten to the point that he couldn’t breathe. She went over to the struggling man and dragged him to his feet – at arm’s length of course. She didn’t feel all that bad about this, but she wanted more details than what was offered to the mercs. Din tossed him directly under the rope, so that even if he fell, he wouldn’t suffocate. The knife buried itself deeper into his shoulder. The puny Tupid was crying and mewling pathetically. “Answer the question,” she said even colder.

She knew what the effect on outsiders was to the voice modulator. It would sound like a winter-gale was cutting through the soul while a wampa was close enough to reach out and devour them. Tupid babbled. Apparently, he had no pain tolerance. He babbled everything he knew about the First Order and their plans, which wasn’t much. Boiled down, he knew they existed, had been approached and only knew that they wanted specific children to pressure other people into following them for the fear and love of their children.

It took about fifteen minutes to get through it all and in the end, she got annoyed enough to take her knife out of his shoulder and let it pulse as she tried to get her anger at the sorry excuse of a being in front of her under control. That was also, about the time that the comm went off. Jiljoo’ame was hailing her to tell her that all the selling of the items was completed and they were on the ship as ordered. She had purposefully left the Ground Security Protocols off, so that they could reenter the ship without her. Din returned the hail with an order to hold on to something, and then summoned the Razor Crest. The ship would take enough time to get her business done with the Jawas and finish with Tupido.

Tupido was simply dispatched with a blaster shot to the head. The grapple rope she had used to keep him from leaving was reclaimed. She contemplated rifling the body, but decided not to. Instead she turned to the now-pack of Jawas who were waiting for her to be finished. They had already gone over the mercs and their ships, by the way they were chattering away. She cleared her throat and took a seat in front of them on the blanket cushion they had set out for her.

Nodding her thanks and getting a nod from the group, she began, “ _[I would like to have the Razor Crest enlarged by forty percent, a way to add a secondary defense in the forms of stealth shield and a camouflaging cover for the hull, while maintaining the efficiency of the hyperdrive as it is. I would also like some assistance with getting materials on Nevarro. For some personal projects.]”_ The Jawas debated this among themselves in whispers. She waited patiently, a couple of minutes later the Jawas said “ _[It will take a long time to do this project. Many weeks, much material.]”_ She nodded and stated “ _[I know. But it is a fair trade is it not? A refueling station, a storage facility, a mostly intact factory and three almost-brand new ships to scrap; for such a project.]”_

They knew as well as she did, if not better, that they were getting the better part of this particular deal. They whispered among themselves and seemed to make a decision. The Jawas agreed to it, but demanded that it would take at least a year to get everything together and about six months’ worth of work to get everything in place properly on her ship. Din agreed almost instantly and they all agreed that the project would be best to do on Tatooine, the Jawas’ home planet. It may be a hot and inhospitable planet with even more inhospitable locals, but it had privacy for the most part and no one would really ask questions. Business was concluded.

They went their separate ways – the Jawas to scrap what they wanted from the factory and Din to get her new speeder. She could have asked the Jawas to modify the thing, but she wanted to do that herself. Din got to the bike and began to rev the thing up. She would head back towards town until she saw the Crest. She’d wait for it to come down then. Din wanted to give the Jawas some privacy and the Twi’lek didn’t need to see what was in said-factory.

Din was about two kilometers away from the factory when she saw the Crest. There she stopped and allowed the ship to land about fifteen feet away from her. She made quick work of loading the speeder into the compartment that held her old speeder, before that moron triggered the self-destructing trap on it. The hatch came down and she walked up it as calmly as if she didn’t notice all four Twi’lek were holding on to the ladder and each other with death-grips. It was almost amusing. The four let go of the ladder as the hatch closed and she approached.

“Make yourself comfortable, we are on our way to Naboo,” she said as she climbed the ladder. “It is about two hours away, so not _too_ comfortable.” She made it into the cockpit. Taking off planet, Din decided it would probably be the last time for a long time that she would have people on her ship. She didn’t like it. But, hey, in two hours the quartet would be off her ship.

**[Two Hours Later] {AN: I skipped the lift off and journey because it doesn’t add anything but additional words to the story}**

As the Razor Crest landed on Naboo, Din thought, _‘The Twi’lek will be treated well here and I can hand off the information I got from that Tupido-bastard. Might even be able to split off that account here and take a portion with me. I have the feeling that I’ll need it.’_ The hailing from the Ground Control was generic and asked her to land in Hangar Nine. She sent back a message confirming that she was heading for Hangar Nine and added a request to see Captain Ruvula. When she landed the Crest, she shut down the engines and descended the ladder to the lower deck.

The Twi’lek were there of course, looking torn between hopeful joy – probably about a new life to start on the beautiful planet – and mind-blank terror – probably for the same reason. She gestured to them. They silently gathered their things and followed her to the hatch. They had folded and put away the things that made the teenagers their bed and the dishes. She knew that they hadn’t taken anything that was not theirs, for there was no deceit in their presence at all.

The Twi’lek actually preceded her off the ramp and were being greeted by Captain Ruvula politely yet warmly. She made her way off the ramp, only to hear a shout and a report of a blaster. Din felt the edge of the blast as she tried to dodge. Din fell off the ramp with a muffled curse as she rolled to her feet, feeling the pulsing burn on her left bicep and part of her torso, where the _beskar_ wasn’t situated. She hadn’t been expecting that. This was supposed to be a secure Hangar for vetted personnel only.

The Twi’lek were shrieking and Captain Ruvula was shouting at someone to cease fire. She had drawn her own blaster as she rolled to her feet. Din heard a struggle occurring and someone shouting about Captain Ruvula being a traitor and he was working with an Imp. Oh and if that didn’t make Din want to shoot the shouter somewhere painful, she didn’t know what would make her want to.

Captain Ruvula looked fit to be tied as well he should. He had been part of the Rebellion after all, just as she had been. “This Mandalorian,” Captain Ruvula said with venom near spewing from his mouth along with his words, “is an old ally of the Rebellion who helped save more lives, than anyone cares to admit. And has shown more honor than you. How dare you fire on someone like him!?” He gestured to a group of men, who looked somewhat sympathetic to the man that they were restraining. “Get him out of here and into a secured cell. Queen Sosha Soruna will hear of this!”

The restrained man who was being put into cuffs, demanded “Why would the Queen care about a filthy Mando? One of the Empire’s main stooges – “That was when Din shot the grapple rope out and let it wrap around his legs. She pulled hard and strong, jerking the man out from his restrainers’ grips and yanking him towards her. She was near enraged to the point of **_remonstrating_** with the little bastard. To dare shoot at her and then to accuse her of being an _Imperial_?!

Din didn’t stop winding, until the bastard was right in front of her. Stomping on his sternum with her left boot, she felt something crack. The brat let out a shriek of pain. Captain Ruvula approached her, his hands spread wide, slowly as if he were approaching a feral animal. Her helmet glared at him as her blaster was centered right between the eyes of the little brat. “I know he crossed several lines there,” he soothed, “but please don’t kill him. He is not worth it. He not only insulted you, but he has cast a shadow of dishonor upon Naboo and her Queen. He will be punished severely for this.”

Din near shot the bastard anyway, just not between the eyes. She was contemplating his crotch, when she heard a whimper. The Twi’lek were looking at her with near-fear in their eyes. They knew she was a killer; they had seen her disintegrate their former owner. She had to be better than that, so while her helmet never seemed to have left her pinned foe, she stated with the rage in her voice making the air charged with malice, “You swear?” Captain Ruvula nodded fervently, “I swear.”

She nodded and holstered the blaster. Jerking the grapple rope from the brat, she let it wind back into her vambrace as she picked the piece of spoiled shit off the floor by the throat. She growled right in his sweating face, “You had better be damn grateful that the Captain swore you would be punished for that slight upon Mandalorian honor, or you would be wishing for death,” with that she hurled the worthless wretch at the former restrainers. They caught him, barely and carried him from the hangar.

Captain Ruvula sighed and tried to apologize to her. She held up a hand forestalling him. Taking the holodisk about what Tupido had confessed and the interactions between the mercs and him, as well as the mercs’ fates, she flatly said “You are going to want this,” nodding at the Twi’lek she directed the next part to them, “Captain Ruvula was the one I told you about. Talk with him and he will help. Good luck.” With that she turned back up the ramp. Right now, she was in no mood to be on Naboo any longer than she had to be. If she did, she’d be tempted to track that little bastard down and show him a taste of what she wanted to do to the real Imps.

As she was half-way up the ramp, Ruvula called, “Good Hunting!” Din didn’t turn back. She just closed the hatch and went up into the cock-pit. She had enough fuel to last her to Nevarro and a little extra. Din was taking off and leaving the planet’s atmosphere just as quickly as the last two exits. Maybe the next time she visited Naboo, she could see her old comrades, but right now she was too pissed off.

Din set the calculations for Nevarro and noticed it would take her almost another week to get there. Again, the time was fine by her. With the whirling of hyperspace once more surrounding her, she went to the medical bunk and pulled out a jar of bacta. Din wanted to keep up her practice and it wouldn’t do if she couldn’t move certain muscles. Taking off the top half of armor was more difficult than it was dragging that brat halfway across a hangar. The adrenaline had worn off, if not the anger at the slight and dishonorable conduct. The top under layers were removed to see a red line on both her inner left bicep and on the adjacent part of her ribs.

The bacta was lightly painted on and held there by a couple of patches. Too fed up with everything today, with the only real bright side to the whole fiasco on Naboo, being that the Twi’lek were off her ship, along with the information on whatever the hell the First Order was. She didn’t feel like cooking anything so just gnawed on a ration bar. Taking off the rest of her armor, she once again curled under the blanket on the medical bunk. It hadn’t been the longest wake cycle she had had recently, but she didn’t feel like doing anything right now. The one thought that crossed her mind before she sank in the habit of meditation before True Sleep claimed her was that she was going to have to do laundry the next day.

And so, the week passed, with the same small routine that would happen every time she went into Hyperspace for an extended period of time. She approached Nevarro with a feeling somewhat like relief. Now, she could go get another bounty and get Qin’s ugly frozen mug off her ship. If she saw his face again in all eternity, it would be too soon.


	7. Chapter Six: Building Underground & The Second Bounty Run Begins:

**Chapter Six: Building Underground & The Second Bounty Run Begins:**

**And so, the week passed, with the same small routine that would happen every time she went into Hyperspace for an extended period of time. She approached Nevarro with a feeling somewhat like relief. Now, she could go get another bounty and get Qin’s ugly frozen mug off her ship. If she saw his face again in all eternity, it would be too soon.**

When Din landed on Nevarro, the injuries from the trigger-happy jerk on Naboo were healed and her irritation had simmered down. The carbonite slab that housed Qin was taken off the rack and pushed ahead of her, down the hatch. With the slab out of her ship, Din took the tow-remote that came with the carbonite processor and put it in her pocket. With it there, her hands were free and able to keep one hand on her blaster. She had scolded herself for almost the entire week about the fiasco on Naboo. ‘ _I am usually vigilant everywhere. Just because I know Captain Ruvula and the Queen, doesn’t mean that others will trust me and certainly doesn’t mean I should let my guard down.’_ She thought as she approached the cantina to collect the bounty.

_~ POV Change ~ {Greef Karga}_

He got warning when the Ghost landed and was hauling the bounty into town on his own, in carbonite. It had baffled him for a moment, before, Karga realized that the paranoid Mando wouldn’t even let someone on his ship to take a bounty if he didn’t trust them. He sipped his shot of spotcka, grimacing. He didn’t usually overindulge, but that first time the Mando had walked into the cantina had been a subject for the town gossips for the last couple of weeks, not really dying down yet.

‘ _That bounty was also supposed to last him a month,’_ Greef was torn between irritation, amazement and amusement, ‘ _I wonder if I send him on a small string of bounties, would Mando come back in a record time with carbonite slabs following him like bunch of babies following their mother?’_ He reclined back into the booth he sat at, and pulled out a list of wanted bounties that the Guild had been sent just in the last week.

It appeared in the last week, the news about the bounty business, especially with the Mandalorian, was getting around. He already had thirteen jobs that requested that the Mando do them personally. Maybe, if he gave that list to the Mando; there would be enough time to get more bounties in for more of the hunters. The hunters that were close enough to hear the alert were probably wondering the same thing he was about the speed though. And the carbonite. Most hunters didn’t have that, they usually kept them in specialized prison cells and had the Guild unload the prisoners on repurposed slave ships to be off loaded wherever the bounties were wanted the most.

At that moment, in walks the Ghost trailing the slab. Greef almost felt a kind of amusement at the scene. It did kind of look funny. The Ghost didn’t sit down, but kept standing. Karga honestly wondered for a moment what the man was waiting for. He gestured to the seat opposite, silently. That seemed to be what the Mando was waiting for. The Mando took the rifle from his back and sat down; rifle on the table under his hands. Greef noticed with some resignation that he still couldn’t read the Mando’s body language, but he bulled through the awkwardness – at least on his end – and said, “That was fast.”

The Mando was silent as he took the hand off the rifle – closest to the trigger – and took out the pouch the held the bounty puck and tracking fob for the Twi’lek he had brought down. Placing it on the table in between them, the Mando waited, still silent. Greef nodded and placed the bounty’s reward on the table, all nine thousand on the table. Ghost took six-thousand and pushed the other three thousand back towards Karga. He was puzzled and blurted out, “Not negotiating?” The Mando shrugged and sliding the reward out of sight. “What do you have?”

The voice was a raspy deep purr; without anger to make it sound like a dangerous predator was in mid-pounce to tear your throat out it actually sounded sexy. If Karga had been the kind of person attracted to the same sex, that voice would have been near enough to get his heart thumping for the other man. Greef gave himself a mental shake. He didn’t need to be having a sexual attraction of any kind to one of his hunters. “I actually do,” he replied and pulled out the thirteen jobs that had been specifically sent to the Mandalorian, “these are all been sent to the Guild specifically for you.”

The Mando took each of the pucks out and looked at the information for each of the pictures. The glow of the pucks seemed to make blue flames appear on the visor. Karga blinked in startlement, the flames were gone in an instant. ‘ _Must have been a trick of the light.’_ He thought to himself, as the Mando put all the bounty pucks back in their respective pouches. They too disappeared under the table.

Greef thought as the Mando got up and slipped the rifle back over his shoulder, ‘ _Hopefully that will last the Mando a year or so.’_ “Good Hunting,” he said as the Mando nodded in farewell as he walked towards the door and left.

“Not very talkative that one,” the bartender drawled where he was cleaning one of the tankards. Karga snorted in agreement and finished the glass of spotcka he hadn’t touched when the Mandalorian was there. Taking back the thirty-percent of the bounty that now belonged to the Guild, he could only hope that the Mando would continue to be as generous in the years to come.

_~ POV Change ~ {Din Djarrin}_

Walking out of the cantina, Din went into the bazaar. Using the entrance there to enter the sewers, it took her no time to find the old ferry droid on the lava river. She got in and as it beeped at her, it looked like it was barely functioning. “Downriver, to daylight,” she said. As the droid obeyed, she started studying the craft.

It was an old craft with a very old anti-grav model that was about five decades out of date. The droid – she studied – looked just as old and was probably even older. That would be dealt with. It took a half an hour to get down to the entrance of the underground river. When she saw it, Din shook her head with amusement. It was lava flats. They were not stable enough to hold her ship so close to the river, but she could tell that they were safe enough to traverse – if you paid attention to where your feet were.

She wouldn’t want to be caught out after dark though. While she did have night and infrared vision, the lava so close to the surface could make it impossible to really see a predator approaching on the ground. Also, night time predators would probably be equipped with some sort of natural blending of the terrain. So, if she could help it, she wouldn’t be out here at night.

Din planted another tracker by the mouth of the underground river. She had an idea in mind to make things quicker and take out the need for the droid as well. Just because she used it, doesn’t mean she trusted it and certainly didn’t want to rely on it. Din got back on the barge and told the droid to taker her to the first underground tunnel they came to. The beeping seemed to be in confirmation and so the droid did as she commanded. It took another half an hour to get to the tunnel got within sight, she put a credit in the droid’s “hand” once more. The droid collapsed in on itself and stayed at the entrance.

Din didn’t stick around, she went back up the entrance at the bazaar and began walking around, looking for all the worlds like she was taking in the stalls and their various wares. She would make a stop at the bank and the clinic, with the bank first.

She made her way to the bank and went inside; straight to the console from two weeks prior. True to the time estimate, the entirety of the account was there in this bank. The Zabrak from before wasn’t there. Instead, a Quarren was; who was busy fixing a droid that seemed to have malfunctioned. In any event, he would be busy. She turned to the console; keeping an ear out for anyone approaching. It took about an hour for her to split the account into three parts: one for investing in the clinic, one for savings for later and one for herself to withdraw overtime. She decided to withdraw about a quarter of that third now. It amounted to something like one-hundred thousand credits, after fees.

The amount was safety put away in the hidden sack on her back not five minutes later. She left in a little of sour mood, since the Quarren had said that a droid would have to get her money. Another interaction with a droid. She also pocketed the data chip for the first account’s information. She would give it to Dr. Hadi and her sister/assistant Rekas, for use in investing in the clinic and in starting up the little bacta operation.

On the way to the clinic, she decided to do a little practice using her trump card. A kind of physical shield combined with an illusion. It would make her nigh invisible. Din started it as she went down a side alley so as not to draw attention to the fact, she was more special than being a rarity that was a Mandalorian.

The clinic was in sight and she was nearing the door, when it burst open. A bounty hunter in a cracked mask went hurtling through the air to land a few meters away. Dr. Hadi followed after with blaster in hand and a furious look on her face. “Come near this clinic again, you drunken piece of shit and I will set a bounty out on **you**!” The bounty hunter got to his feet, snarling in Huttese. While Din was contemplating getting involved, little Sona came to stand behind Dr Hadi. There were tears in her eyes and what looked like a hand-size mark starting to swell up on her face. Din saw red.

The bounty hunter was starting to go towards the clinic, when he was blindsided by a kick that sent him flying. Crashing into a trash receptacle, he turned to yell at the attacker only for him to near swallow his tongue. The Ghost Mandalorian was stalking towards him, rage seeming to be emitting from the Mando’s body as he came nearer to the hunter. “You are a disgrace to the Guild,” the voice seemed to draw all the warmth of the day from the air, leaving an icy wind to cut straight through his soul. “Get lost.”

_~ POV Change ~ {Dr. Hadi}_

With that, the Mando turned and approached Dr Hadi who was looking on with surprised irritation. “I could have handled him, Mando. No need to butt in,” she snapped at the Mando. “You shouldn’t have to,” was the only reply. “May I enter?” The doctor blinked and nodded as she holstered her blaster. Little Sona was pouting at the Mando with big sad eyes. As the trio came inside the clinic, Dr Hadi looked back at where the fool bounty hunter had landed.

She was amused to see no sign of the bounty hunter other than a puddle that everyone was avoiding. ‘ _Well, there’s one advantage to having a Mandalorian around,’_ she thought to herself, ‘ _it scares off the drunkards and spice-eaters fast when he’s around.’_ Dr. Hadi looked around to see that Mona and Rekas were both staring with surprised delight and little Sona was hugging the Mando around his thigh now. It was a cute sight, she admitted to herself, the big bad Mando being hugged by Sona as if he was a favorite uncle who had been away for too long – maybe even a beloved father. Hadi shook her head vigorously, trying to get the image of the Mando in such a light out of her head. ‘ _Rekas’s and Mona’s infatuation with the man is already too much! I don’t need to be adding to the list of women who want to rip the poor man’s armor off.’_

The Mandalorian was looking down at the little girl-leech on his leg and patted her head. Then he took both arms and lifted her, where the little girl was able to wrap her legs around his waist and hug him around the shoulders instead. It was – impossible as it seemed – even cuter picture than when little Sona was hugging his leg. The Mando sighed and nodded to the grown women in greetings.

‘ _If he doesn’t watch himself,’_ Hadi thought amused, ‘ _He’s going to end up with a wanna-be harem of women and a bounty on his head from jealous men-folk!’_ Rekas was offering the man a seat on the padded bench in the little corner, where they had a sitting area for when there were too many patients to care for at one time. The Mandalorian did sit down, little Sona letting go of him only to burrow into his side. An arm instinctively went around the girl, and all three women could see the protective – almost parental – instincts that the Mando had for the child. Hadi knew that the crush she had for the man might have just grown a little harder to deny, while she thought if Mona and Rekas got any more starry-eyed, someone would try to use them for navigating space. She shook her head and asked “How was the trip?”

The Mandalorian looked at her and said, “Eventful.” The women frowned in concern and little Sona said, “Shiny-Head! You left without saying good-bye.” Sona looked like she was going to cry. The Mando looked down at her and seemed to sigh. “I am not used to saying good-byes. My apologies, _adiik_ ,” “What?” Mona said startled. The Mando seemed to realize what he said and seemed to be a little embarrassed, “It is nothing. _Adiik_ , it means kid, children in a certain age range.” Turning to little Sona, he seemed to go stern, “I don’t mind you hugging me, but I do mind being called – of all things,” here he seemed to twitch, “ ** _Shiny-Head._** If you must call me something other than Mando or Mandalorian, you may call me Ghost or,” he seemed to hesitate here; pausing as if a thought was going through his helmeted head that meant something very important. “Or,” he continued slowly, “Or you may call me _Ba’vodu_ , in private.”

None of the others knew what the title meant, but the women could understand how much little Sona seemed to mean to the Mando. For him to let the young one call him something in – what they assumed – the language of the Mandalorians. They wondered what the term meant. Mona asked after the term and the Mandalorian’s reply was one that near knocked them off their proverbial feet. “It means uncle or in this case, aunt.”

The knowledge that had just been casually dropped by this Mandalorian – the **_female_** Mandalorian – was enough to make all three women look at him – _her –_ in total surprise. The newly-named Ghost just looked at them and tilted his – _her –_ helmet in puzzlement. Hadi was the first to wrench her mind from the blanket of shock that had settled over it. “What did you mean by eventful?” She asked; settling down in a chair just to the side of the padded bench where the Ghost sat.

Rekas and Mona sat down in other chairs, faces still having the look of stunned shock on their faces. Ghost looked down at Sona again and began to tell his – _her_ – tale. It was heavily edited – all three women could tell – and was probably so for the child nestled in the Ghost’s side. It looked like Sona had fallen asleep again. ‘ _It must be that voice of hers,’_ mused Hadi, ‘ _when she isn’t angry or uptight about something, it sounds like a soothing purr from a loth-cat. Even through that bucket.’_

When Ghost finished her tale, she added, “Now about investing in the clinic and starting bacta-manufacturing,” pulling out a data-chip, she put it on the table. Rekas hesitated and picked it up while Mona and Hadi continued to look at the Ghost. “That data-chip has the funds needed to start the set-up. And this,” another data-chip, this one was much thicker than the first, “has a copy of the blue-prints to make a small manufacturing system that can fit in the part of the old sewers below this clinic and a list of parts that could be bought cheap elsewhere and sent here on one of the regular supply drops.”

Ghost seemed to fight with herself and then stated, “I am going to make a little bolt-hole down in the sewers. Because you have a child and are now being invested in by me,” she looked at the three other women, “I feel that I must tell you, just in case something goes wrong and you have to get off-planet and need somewhere to hide.” That was enough to get them all to look sharply at the Mando and at each other. Hadi thought long and hard.

The galaxy was a big and dangerous place, Nevarro – with its hive of bounty hunters and frequent volcanic eruptions – wasn’t any less dangerous. This Mandalorian – Ghost – was giving them a way out just in case things went badly and, in the meantime, giving them this wonderful opportunity of their lifetimes, which included protection provided by a legend. Hadi stood up and walked over to the Ghost. The Ghost looked at her, as Hadi sat down beside her – on the opposite side of Sona. Impulsively, she threw her arms around the Mandalorian and hugged her tightly.

Hadi felt the Ghost stiffen and said, “I know it is against your way to show your face or share your name, but what is the word for ‘Friend’ in your language? I would like to call you that, until you trust us enough with your name.” The Ghost sat stiffly in her embrace, while Rekas and Mona stared at her, as if she had turned into a dancing Ewok. It felt like an eternity before the Ghost said, in a hoarse tone heard even through the voice modulator, “ _Burc’ya_.” Hadi smiled, “We’ll call you that in private and Ghost for in the public view.” The air seemed to brighten with a relief from tension and too many surprises. She released their Ghost and got up. “Now,” she said, “What do you have going on now? After your first bounty.”

Ghost said, “I will be going out for another bounty run. Thirteen jobs to do on this run. It might take at most two years. I will be resupplying while on planet, before heading for those jobs. Secretly, I will be making that bolt hole.” Rekas and Mona had seemed to snap out of their shock induced silence. Rekas got up and said, “I’ll start with getting some of the materials. No brow raisers, though,” she quirked a smile, “Just some of the components for the tanks, maybe the tanks themselves. If I get some at certain places around town, I might be able to make a kind of bath from a repurposed tank to say that we are experimenting with some more primitive medical techniques,” she trailed off as she got up and crossed over to the computer console for the clinic. Muttering to herself, she started puttering away with the thing.

Mona stayed seated and asked Ghost if there was anything, she could do to help with securing the to-be bacta tanks or even the bolt hole. She – Ghost that is – seemed to think a moment before giving her assent. With conditions. “It has only been two weeks,” she said, “if you start feeling tired, please go rest.”

Mona nodded and rose from her seat. Ghost tried to rise, but little Sona just whined and held onto her tighter. Ghost looked at Sona and shook her slightly. “Wake up, Sona,” she said, “There is work to be done.” Little Sona sat up and looked around for a moment until she realized that her new auntie hadn’t left already and that she had been sleeping on her for some time. Hadi smiled, Sona was such a cuddler. If anyone of the clinic – that being Sona’s mother, Rekas and herself – were not tending to patients and were sitting somewhere working on something; little Sona had to be nestled into their sides like some weird human-shaped loth-cat.

Young Sona, yawned hugely and hugged Ghost’s leg. Releasing the Ghost, she said in a sleepy voice, “Promise you’ll say good-bye?” The Ghost looked down at her and picked her up. Hugging the girl, she said, “I will be on planet for a while, but before I leave to go off-planet, I promise,” her voice that raspy and – to Hadi’s mortification – still sexy thing coming from her helmet, “I will say good-bye.”

Sona was put down and the little girl went over to the cot she shared with her mother. Taking her stuffed bantha doll with her as she followed Mona and Ghost into the back. Hadi was glad now that she thought of it, that K8-MB1 was out running errands again. She didn’t want to make Ghost uncomfortable.

**[A Week Later]**

The group at the clinic said their goodbyes for the last time, before Ghost left the planet for her jobs. There were a few tears and Sona was near inconsolable, until Ghost told her that she was depending on Sona to look out for her mother and aunts. One last hug, before the Mando walked out the back entrance that led down to the almost completed small-time bacta factory. As Sona went outside to play at Mona’s urging, Hadi looked at both of them, “So, no more infatuation over Ghost?” At the two women’s blushes and silence, Hadi said with an almost deadpan look on her face, “You two have to be kriffing kidding me.”

_~ POV Change ~ {Din Djarrin}_

‘ _Honestly,’_ she thought to herself as she climbed aboard her ship, ‘ _I am going to miss that little group. But it will be good to go out on a Hunt, again.’_ The week that she had spent on Nevarro had been eventful. The small-time bacta factory was near ready for operation – it just needed a few more items needed that were on route to Nevarro, Greef Karga had been told exactly what the drunkard bounty hunter had done and said-hunter had near been expelled from the Guild – his punishment ending up being a lookout for Karga with a bump to the bottom of the list of hunters waiting on a puck, resupplying the Razor Crest and – what actually had taken up most of her time – getting the barge retrofitted with a robotic system to take people up and down the lava river a little quicker than the old droid could and that could only be accessed by five chits so far – held by her and the clinic’s residents. The droid had been claimed by Rekas, saying she would like to see if she could reprogram the droid for helping with deliveries and updating it where she could. For her sake and all, Din hadn’t made too many objections. Her only condition was that the damn thing not be around her when she was on planet.

Another bright spot about the trip to the clinic, was the knowledge that Mona was gaining healthy weight and did indeed – learn at lightspeed. Most of the bacta-manufacturing project was done by her and Rekas. All the residents were determined and strong, even little Sona, who followed her around in the sewers, instead of playing on the surface. She would help Din with the barge and practice saying _Ba’vodu_. Always carrying the bantha toy. It was very endearing and made Din feel a little jealous of Mona, to have such a sweet child.

Din shook her head in exasperation. She was getting soft, she needed to Hunt. As she broke atmosphere, Din put in the coordinates for the closest job. A little intimidation ploy it seemed. One gangster group trying to bluff another gang into giving some territory up. There weren’t a lot of details on this one, but it was the closest.

Calculations complete, Hyperspace beckoned. Din didn’t disappoint. Entering Hyperspace, the alarms coming on automatically to say when she was making the final approach in about one and a half hours, she climbed down the ladder to the lower deck. Taking off her helmet, she gnawed on a couple of ration bars while she took out all the new job pucks and for good measure, the data-pad that contained the list of Imperial locations that she had gotten from the New Republic.

Placing them on the table top all together, she began to sort them out. Most were regular bounties, a few bail jumpers. There five that were not regular at all, one being the first one she was heading for. Two were assassination contracts. One was for a Gangster that had gotten on the wrong side of a Hutt. The other was for a corrupt governor who had pissed someone off enough in the New Republic to offer such an amount of credits. The Hutt wanted proof of termination – probably the head – delivered to them on Tatooine. The New Republic associate that wanted the corrupt governor gone, only wanted the killing public, didn’t care if it was revealed to be a Mando or not. The last two were protection details. One was for about five standard months while the Senator was residing at Canto Bight, about six standard months from now. The other detail for that same Senator’s kids, respectively seven, ten, ten and fifteen; at the same time.

She grimaced; five months was quite a space of time. And basically, as a babysitter for a politician and their kids. She didn’t know which prospect was worse: the politician or the kids. She would have to be quick with the others though. Quick, however, didn’t mean careless or sloppy. Along the way, there were at least twelve different Imp sites she wanted gone that were either nearby some of the jobs or on route. Din checked the details of the bail-jumpers. Not an innocent one in the lot. All were smugglers working for the same gangster – a different one than the one that had pissed off a Hutt – with one wanted for attempted rape as well.

Din knew that with them skipping bail like that, they wouldn’t be there with their boss. They would be somewhere else, hiding from the bounty hunters and continuing to work. And according to their tracking fobs, they were all together on a backwater planet in the Hoth system. Probably freezing their gonads off and wishing for a warmer setting. She would be happy to oblige that no-doubt wish of theirs. Carbonite wasn’t much warmer, but you wouldn’t die from freezing to death in it like you most certainly would in the Hoth system.

Looking over the information from the tracking fobs that were actually included with the protection details, she smiled a predator’s smile. The information on each of them included enough to find more on the Holo-Net about schedules. Sketchy as it was out this far from the Core, Din could look up any pertinent information on public events. The big computer on the lower deck was able to access the Holo-Net, where the one in her personal quarters couldn’t. She turned it on to look up the itinerary of the corrupt governor and the Senator. The politics that they got into, what circles they traveled, acknowledged rivals and enemies and even allies. It was for the most part there. Of course, that didn’t include anything informal, or private. The stuff that said such things, she ignored. The gossip rags of the galaxy, trying to sell stories for credits. Not really worth her time.

The predator’s smile returned to her face, bigger than the last one. She knew how to make this work and be back on Nevarro within a year and a half. Wouldn’t that surprise the Guild and probably anyone else who noticed her record. If she could pull this off, even with those little detours to go burn some Imps, within the year she wanted to, her reputation would get even more legendary. It might even get big enough to echo out to the larger part of the galaxy to let other Mandalorians know, she existed. It would also send a clearer message to the remaining Imps: there was someone hunting them who was a hell of a galaxy better than the New Republic hunters could ever hope to be. And then she could meet the Jawas on Tatooine to make the modifications to the Razor Crest, when she went to deliver the head of the gangster to the Hutt as proof of termination!

The amount of credits for this run would add up – according to her quick estimation, about half a million credits. Not the biggest run she had ever had, but certainly not the smallest. Glancing up at the alarm, she donned her helmet once more. Putting the pucks and fobs away in their respective pouches, Din tucked the ones not associated with this first job into her hidden sack. Climbing back up the ladder into the cockpit, Din Djarrin smile – if seen – would make a Rancor back off.

It took about twenty minutes to land in the hangar that belonged to the gang that had hired her services. When she did, Din climbed down the ladder and made sure that she took her Amban rifle with her. The pouches at her belt were fully stocked and ready before she had even left Nevarro. She was still smiling when she walked down the ramp, walking towards the welcoming party. The first job was about to begin.


	8. Chapter Seven: Gangs & In the Hoth System:

**Chapter Seven: Gangs & In the Hoth System:**

**It took about twenty minutes to land in the hangar that belonged to the gang that had hired her services. When she did, Din climbed down the ladder and made sure that she took her Amban rifle with her. The pouches at her belt were fully stocked and ready before she had even left Nevarro. She was still smiling when she walked down the ramp, walking towards the welcoming party. The first job was about to begin.**

**Now on with the Journey: In a galaxy far, far away…**

The welcoming party included was comprised of seven minions. All carrying big blasters. Din Djarrin wasn’t impressed, not by them nor their firepower. The smile that she had on her face dimmed. There had better be something better than this. The leader of the minions – she wouldn’t say this was the big boss – swaggered up to her and drawled, “So, you’re the Mando? Gotta say, I am not impressed. Heard we were getting a little muscle to help beef up the ranks. Didn’t know it would be so literally true.”

They all laughed at the joke. Din’s smile vanished completely from behind her helmet. Great, it was one of _those_ jobs. Where the locals think they are the biggest loth-wolves in the galaxy. She was kind of tempted to show the impudent idiot just how small a pup he was, but she throttled down the urge. Instead, Din said, “There wasn’t a lot of details for the job on the puck. So, do yourself a favor and fill in the blanks left or lead me to the person who does know what’s going on.”

The minion just sneered at her and said, “Talk to the boss, if you think you can pull off the job. But we’re here for the rent for the hangar, not to be your tour guide.” He held up his hand to her and made a gesture – as if this arrogant moof-milker wanted her to pay for the privilege of the job. Her hand shot up from her side and grabbed the bastard by the outstretched limb. Twisting it, she ignored his yell of pain and pinned it up his back, near dislocating his arm.

The other six minions had their blasters up and aiming at her. She pushed the buttons to engage Ground Security Protocols for the Razor Crest. Pulling her regular blaster with the other hand she shot all six minions before they knew what was happening. They honestly hadn’t known how to hold those big blasters properly. Jamming the blaster into the point of the neck where it meets the skull and spoke, icy warning in her voice, “I suggest you play tour guide for a while. If you are good enough at it, I won’t splatter your brain all over the street.”

The idiot looked horrified and like he was about to puke at the sight of the other six shot down before they knew it. He snapped out of his thoughts to gulp and nod, when Din pressed the blaster’s hot barrel into his skull just a little too firmly. It took a few minutes to walk by a bar that _had_ been mentioned on the puck. The door opened with a hiss when they approached. The bar – which had been lively with talk and laughter – suddenly got quiet. All eyes were turned to the door where she stood with her unwilling tour guide.

“Well, I be,” a voice drawled from a shadowed corner, “Here I thought I would have to tell you what I had actually hired you for and you go and do it for me unknowing.” As Din faced the corner, a form rose and walked towards the pair at the door. It was a heavily built male with a braid of black hair. He came towards the pair with a big malevolent grin. “Mando,” he said with great satisfaction, “Please pull the trigger on this bastard.” Said-bastard was probably staring at the male, she couldn’t tell.

“Who are you?” she demanded. The man laughed heartily and said, “I’m the one who hired you, I gave a passphrase in the puck. It’s always nice,” his smile turned darker, “to have an enemy put on ice.” Din nodded at the code. It was how she was to find the client in the bar. The welcoming committee had been a slight surprise and for a moment, she had thought that something had come up. Now that she knew what was going on a little better, she took the blaster away from the man’s skull.

The client seemed to start a protest, before the shot fired from the blaster echoed, almost eclipsed by the shriek that came from the man. After all, she had just shot him in the back of the kneecap. Din turned her face to look at the client. The Client had a look of near lust on his face. “Thank you,” he purred, “this is even better than you shooting him in the head and giving him a quick death. This way, I can make a true example out of him.” He tossed a pouch at her. She caught it. She could read the man’s mind slightly. He wasn’t truly frightened of her, but he hadn’t shorted her either. In fact, there was a nice tip in there. This pouch hadn’t been intended for her pay as he had already paid a fifth of it as a down-payment, but the client hated the unwilling tour guide that much. This would allow him to take control of both gangs. “That’ll be all, Mando,” the client drawled, “May you have a better hunt in the future.”

Job finished way quicker than she thought it would be, she pocketed the pouch and holstered her blaster. Turning to head out the door, Din tossed over her shoulder, “And may you have pleasure in your pastime.” The laughter the client gave could be heard from outside the bar as she walked back to the Razor Crest. No mechanic had come to see to her needs, but then they had probably been scared off by the corpses.

She rifled the bodies. Most Mandalorians would think her dishonorable for taking things off a corpse, but she believed in not wasting anything she could get any use out of. Just a fact of life, when you’re a lone wolf. It didn’t take too long. A couple of emaciated pouches of credits from the lot. She left the blasters though. They were too much junk for her taste. Half an hour later, Din was on to the next job.

_‘It that wasn’t the shortest job I have ever been on; I can’t remember it.’_ Din thought to herself as she put in the calculations for the Hoth system. The bail-jumpers would be her next target. It was about a six hour jump away. Fine by her, it would allow her to study up on the information she had on the Imperial targets that she would hit after the bail-jumpers and the next job she wanted done. It was another refueling station, this one was supposed to also manned by droids. There wasn’t as much information on this station, but it was enough. It was going to be the first target. The next two were old shipyards, where they were located, they had probably been part of a fleet exploring the Wild Spaces just beyond the Outer Rim. The one after that was another refueling station. This one was different. It apparently showed activity from actual personnel. It was also located next to four other targets: a storage _compound_ , another factory – for what, wasn’t stated – and two “Academies”. That made her frown for a moment in thought. “Academies” were supposed to be places of learning, but with Imperials, that could mean anything from actual academies to prison for people who needed “ _reeducation”_. Din decided that she would play those two targets by ear. See what was going on and then see if she wanted to blast them into space flotsam.

The next job Din would take was the idiot that pissed off a Hutt. He was on the other side of the galaxy’ it would take a few weeks – maybe two months’ worth – of time to get there, including the pit stops. That would work for her, since the creep was apparently entrenched on a moon that was a week or so from Canto Bight. He’d no doubt be prepared for bounty hunters and assassins gunning for his head. She would make sure that they never saw her coming. Glancing at the alarm, she saw she still had about four hours left. ‘ _A ration bar and a nap should do the trick, with a good hot stew to put on to cook for when I come back.’_

Devouring a ration bar and getting the cooker started while she chewed, Din’s thoughts returned to the past. She thought of the other Mandalorians, hoping that her reputation would reach them. And not the other way around. She was alone, she had no mate and no children. Din would rather be tracked herself, than let someone else be tracked back to a kid.

She shook her thoughts away, grumbling to herself. Placing the cooker into the hatch for it, Din went up the ladder to her personal quarters for that nap. The nap rejuvenated her slightly, when the alarm went off with an hour warning. Taking a stretch, she got out of the chest for where she kept the extra-warm clothing for when she was going to be somewhere as freezing as Hoth. Donning the clothing under and over her armor – to help protect the circuitry – Din made sure to fully stretch; double checking that she could actually move.

Walking over to the cockpit, she started the landing process going for planet Hoth. ‘ _Ancestors,’_ Din thought, as the Razor Crest got closer to the ice-block, ‘ _I never thought that I’d be on this planet ever again.’_ She knew it was a silly hope to avoid it for the rest of her natural lifespan, but that didn’t mean that she didn’t have hopes.

There had been a major Rebellion base there, during the last years of the Empire. She had only been there after the cell she had been working with, were ordered to salvage what they could and make sure the bodies received burials. She had been about sixteen then, just starting to get move on with her life after her _Buir_ had died. The others in the cell were new to her and distrusted her. The memory of it shot through her head as she remembered that awful week.

**{Flashback Commencing}**

_The Razor Crest and four other Rebellion ships landed in the damaged hangar, two days after the Imperials had attacked. Din had turned her engines off and exited the Crest. She was mostly here for security from surprises; so, she didn’t wait up for the others to come out of their ships. Din was already walking cautiously, hand on her blaster, down the tunnels that would hopefully lead to the main computer room. It would be her first target._

_It took about an hour to clear away rubble and carefully move a few supports into place, but eventually, she got to the main computer room. It was severely damaged, but by her reckoning, there was some things that were salvageable. Din double checked to make sure that there was no threat of a cave-in, even from the blasted hole in the wall. ‘_ Looks like the Imps couldn’t get through the door, so they made themselves one,’ _she thought, grimly amused. Din had been trying to do right by her_ Buir’s _teachings more than ever. The pain of his death still pulsed in her heart like a bleeding wound._

_As she returned to the others, she told the captain of the cell about what she had and hadn’t found. “Either the Imps didn’t think that the Rebellion would come back to Hoth and thus left no traps; or they were looking for personnel – maybe a specific one.” The captain nodded and gave a strained smile. “Good work, Mando. Did you check all the tunnels?” Din shook her head, “I only had time to scout the tunnel leading to the main computer room,” she stated, “Would like me to continue searching the tunnels or scout outside while the air is clear?” The captain thought and nodded his head, “Please scout outside. I want to put the troops that died here to rest quickly. Storms will make it impassable out there later. We can work on the caves then.”_

_Din nodded and went to do as the captain asked. She was out there almost the entire day cycle, when she came back to the hangar; near frozen. She had no spare energy to do anything other than report to the captain that there were no traps untriggered, three big Imperial Walkers that were in various states of destroyed and that the corpses farther out were now just inside the hangar. She turned away when the Captain acknowledged her report; and walked up the ramp of the Crest and closed it up after her. She didn’t have the energy to even eat a ration bar, only to fall down into the medical cot and pull a blanket over herself. She was still shivering when she fell asleep._

_So, it went on like that for the next two days, when a storm blew up and the group had to shut the hangar doors. She had been grateful that they had found a land-speeder that was okay to use outside; it had made bringing the bodies back to the hangar that much faster. For a whole day, the group of Rebels – including Din – scouted and took everything that was salvageable and filled up all the other ships, but the Razor Crest. It was a tense time for Din, because the others made it quite clear that they didn’t trust her – a bounty hunter and worse yet, a Mandalorian bounty hunter – and would shut her out socially. Going silent and unsubtly moving away from her when she would go over to the fire that they were rest at. Din honestly thought they were acting like spoiled core-children, not fighters._

_The Captain would look apologetic, but he didn’t try really hard to reign the others in. He trusted her only a little, because a fellow Captain had recommended that if he was going to go out with only some technicians, that he had better take at least one soldier for security. And if it was only to be one, it might as well be one as capable as a Mandalorian. So, she had been asked to go along._

_The tension came to a head on the sixth day. She had come in from patrolling another section of the former battlefield, only to find six of the techs on her ship, pulling out some of her_ Buir’s _tools that had been on the temporary shrine of remembrance she had made for him. Along with his helmet. Needless to say, she near lost her mind and they near lost their lives. She had tossed them all from her ship calling them all kinds of foul names, including desecrators and carrion eaters._

_When most of the group came over, the techs babbled about her being an insane bloodthirsty creature who should never have been trusted, let alone brought. They said that they had wanted to borrow some of the tools that they had seen her working with earlier and when they had gone to get them – thinking she wouldn’t mind them being taken, if she was really one of them, they were all Rebels after all – and had found some spare armor of hers and the tools. They had taken the tools off the rack and were ‘only looking’ at the helmet; when the Mando came out of nowhere and proceeded to beat them and abuse them with both fist and voice._

_She had heard all of this as she straightened the shrine up, positively smoking with rage and indignation. If Din had been thinking coolly and logically, she would have remembered that_ aruetiise _wouldn’t know what the symbols meant. Instead, she could only see her_ Buir’s _last helmet, the one he had died in, being mishandled and fondled by a bunch of_ aruetiise _with entitlement issues._

 _Din finished fixing the shrine as they winded down from their whining. The last thing she needed to put back was her_ Buir’s _helmet. She picked it up and held it between her hands; tears falling silently down her face. They were hidden from view, but that didn’t mean her heart wasn’t still screaming. ‘_ They had to realize,’ _she thought,_ ‘They have to know exactly what they have **_done.’_**

_She stalked down the ramp and cradling the helmet, Din snarled at them. “How **dare** you?” Din came closer. The Captain came between them and barked out, “Stand down, Mando! That is an order.” Din looked at him and hissed indignantly. The Captain continued, “I know that Mandos are territorial bastards that don’t like outsiders, but that ship,” he pointed to the Razor Crest, “is a Rebellion ship, not Mandalorian. It can be accessed by anyone in the Rebel Alliance – “_

_Din interrupted, “No it is not Rebellion property and shouldn’t be accessed by anyone without express permission from the owner, that being me,” the Captain was turning purple, Din continued, “Another thing, if you truly are going to listen to only one side of this mess, then you had best be ready to deal with whatever mess happens your way; for I will get off this rock and leave you_ di’kut _for the wampas.” The Captain blinked and said, in a tone of voice that seemed to signal that he was about to lose his temper, “I will not put down in records just how much insubordination you just did, but I will also not tolerate such disrespect for the lives of your fellow beings.“ Then with a sneer of disgust, “But then, you are a Mandalorian. I should have known that you wouldn’t care about honor. Only credits.”_

_Din almost rocked back on her heels, shocked. Then the almost-logical sadness and hate well of emotions overflowed and swelled under her chest. There must have been some warning that the group – including the Captain – had crossed some line. They had backed away from her by about five meters. Quite a few had their hands on their blasters. She had to leave, go out for a moment – maybe an entire day – because the inferno in her chest would spill out and what would happen would ruin her reputation among the Rebel Alliance._

_So, she said nothing; only holding the helmet tenderly. Turning, she walked to the ramp of the Razor Crest and solemnly placed the helmet in the proper place. Saying prayers of remembrance, she didn’t leave for a few hours; completing the entire ritual would have taken days. Days she couldn’t afford right now. Silently, she apologized to her father for this further indignity, but she felt he would understand. Taking a few deep breaths, she left to continue patrol. There was a little group of about eight techs that would be working on the last bits of the shield generators that had been targeted during the Imperial attack._

_The group that had been in the hangar watched her go, looks of contempt and disgust on some of their faces. The Captain had just been blank. She didn’t give them anything, only walked out to check up on the group outside._

_She had been about five minutes away, when the first screams started; loudly echoing on the frozen landscape. Din sprinted, using a little of the Force to help her move faster over the frozen ground. She was there in time to see a wampa bringing a screaming tech to its mouth to bite. The blaster was in her hand and firing. The first blast went straight into the creature’s foot. When the monster screamed and dropped the tech, the second and third blast went straight into its mouth. It dropped dead to the ground. That was when a roar was heard. Two other wampas, both coming up on her from either side!_

_Din swore foully as she tried to dodge and still shoot. She killed one with a blaster bolt through the eye, as it tossed her into the air. Something felt like it cracked. That was painful and made her slow. The last one was charging her and snagged her. Its claws raked across her leg rather then near bisecting her from the head down. That wampa got the flamethrower to the face and three bolts in its head._

_When she was sure that there were no other monsters about to jump out and try to eat her and the techs, she looked over at them. All eight were accounted for and only one was injured. All were shaking in shock, staring from the wampas to her. Din started to walk over to them, but she swayed as she did; so, she stopped. Looking down, she saw that damn thing had gotten her leg pretty good. Two really nasty gashes were going diagonally across the front of her shin. She could see bone. ‘_ That,’ _she thought to herself, as the techs snapped out of the shock to rush up to her, ‘_ is going to hurt when it’s not numb from the cold.’

_The techs had come to support her, gently when they heard her gasp of pain. They helped her to the salvaged land-speeder that had been mostly loaded with parts. Along with the injured technician, they were held by two men, bracing and shielding them partially from the wind._

_The group had made it back into the hangar at the speeder’s fastest time. When they got there, the techs shouted for the rest as they hauled the injured tech and Din out of the speeder, just about two meters from the ramp to the Crest. Din grunted and shook them off gently. She wouldn’t willingly accept help from those who were now rushing up to the nine of them, some paling at the sight of her leg and the tech’s chest._

_She ignored the inquires, knowing the techs would tell the others what happened. Din headed for the Razor Crest, using enough of the Force to make it easier to walk on her wounded leg. She had just enough bacta to cover her ribs on board; she would have to stitch her leg up and hope she didn’t get a fever or infection. Din was walking up the ramp when someone rushed up to her and seized her round the arms and ribs. Her choked cry of pain was near drowned out by the protests coming from the group she had rescued._

_Din headbutted the idiot and stomped on his instep with her wounded leg at the same time. Her vision near whited out, but she managed to shove the person off her and off the ramp. She braced herself by the control panel and engaged Ground Security Protocols. She didn’t want their help._

~ POV Change ~ [The Captain’s]

 _Captain Bowa Radnam grimaced in pain and near anger as the Mando closed the hatch that led into their ship. ‘_ Mandalorians,’ _he thought in near-disgust as he got to his feet. He winced and lessened the weight on the foot that the Mando had just stomped on. Bowa looked back at the rest of the team. Most were gathered around the injured tech and putting a bacta wrap around his torso._

_It took near an hour for everything and everyone to settle down again. The eight techs that had been out there had to tell the story to the entire group around the fire. Even the injured one did. Though they all insisted that someone should check up on the Mandalorian. When they were told that the techs couldn’t get through the doors to get to the Mando, some of them started to cry._

_Comforted by their friends and told that they must tell everyone what happened, including a recorder from one of the ships, they all looked at one another and it was the injured one who started._

_“It went like this,” he started, breathing haphazardly, “we were by the old shield generators, trying to salvage anything we could. The Mando had already scouted it a couple a days ago, so we had thought, no worries, right? There is nothing there.” He started coughing. That was when the oldest of the group laid a hand on the man’s shoulder and gave it a squeeze. He picked up the story, “There was nothing there to start with. No signs we could see. We had near finished up – there wasn’t much to salvage,” here he looked a little disappointed, “the Imps sure blew it to bits. But anyway, we didn’t hear anything nor see anything. When all of a sudden, the first wampa showed up and I swear,” he looked a little embarrassed, “I don’t think a single one of us didn’t let out a shriek. Those things are kriffing massive. Like a giant Wookie with a really bad attitude!”_

_Here all the techs from the group shuddered and nodded fervently. The tech with blonde hair with a streak of blue in it – he said it matched his eyes – picked up the story, “It grabbed Beany over there,” here he gestured at the injured tech – whose response was a rude hand gesture – “and looked like it was about to bite him, head first; when the blaster started sounding off. The thing dropped Beany and then dropped itself. I don’t know how many times that thing got hit, but when I – we – turned to look, that Mando was there. Blaster out and pointing at the monster.” He gestured to the still-shut Razor Crest. The look he shot towards it was a mix of gratefulness and shame. “I tell you,” he said, “When I saw him standing there, I took back every bad thing I ever said about Mandos in my head.”_

_Captain Bowa Radnam shot them a look, “Was that all?” he inquired. The group emphatically shook their heads in negation. “There were two more,” a voice whispered hoarsely. The group – the ones who hadn’t been there – turned in stunned shock to look at the smallest. A young woman who still looked a little pale and sick. She repeated, “There were two more.”_

_‘_ Two more?’ _Bowa thought incredulously, ‘_ That arrogant Mando took down three of those monsters? By himself?’ _He jerked his thoughts back to the debrief. The eldest of the speakers started back up, “Yep, there were two more right enough,” he said darkly, “they came at him from either side; flanking him. He got smacked about ten meters I’d say by the second one he killed and just when I thought the last one was going to cut him from head to toe, that crazy Mando dodged!” here, he looked a little sad, “well, mostly dodged. The damn over-grown Wookie managed to claw up his leg as it’s paw came down, but in the end, the Mando got that one too.”_

_The young woman said, “It happened so fast, I honestly didn’t know what was happening, until I saw the Mando standing there with a bloody leg and three dead monsters surrounding the group.” Two men who had been shivering close by the fire nodded silently, as did the two ladies huddled together, sharing a blanket._

_The injured man finished up the tale, “Those that could, loaded both of us hurt ones into the speeder and all high-tailed it back here. You know the rest.” “Actually,” one of the men spoke up, “The Mando might also have some cracked ribs. He gasped both times we near touched a part of his torso.”_

_A heavy silence followed that revelation. Bowa swallowed, guiltily thinking back to where he had grabbed the Mando and had heard a sound that sounded like a cry of pain. ‘_ He may be an arrogant son of a womp rat,’ _he thought, ‘_ but he did save this team.’ _He straightened; the group did the same. “You,” he gestured to the group that had gone out, “you lot stay here and get some rest. The rest of you,” he looked around the rest of the group, “get that door open. That Mando is getting medical treatment, whether he wants it or not.”_

_The group as a whole, nodded; even the six that had gotten their asses kicked by the Mando just hours before, simply for going onto the Crest to get some tools. The small group of eight techs, stayed by the fire; while the rest of them tried to break the doors onto the Razor Crest. They were actually kind of worried. It had been about an hour or so, since the Mandalorian had gone up the ramp and closed it. And in the end, the time had gone up to the two-hour mark, when they managed to open the door without raising an alarm. They had just prayed that the Mando was still alive in there as the group rushed up the ramp, the Captain in the lead._

~ POV Change ~ {Din Djarrin}

_The first thing she had done, when she engaged the Ground Security Protocols, so she wouldn’t be bothered, she headed straight to the medical unit and taken out a special powder. When she sprinkled it on her injured leg, the bleeding – still slow from it being so damn numb – stopped. Din knew it wouldn’t last for too long._

_Then, she had put the last bacta wrap she had on board on and had added extra bandaging for cushioning her tender ribs and the bruises from that damn wampa’s hit. She had to get a special shirt from the storage by the bed; she couldn’t put the one she had been wearing on – it was a pull-on and she didn’t want to strain her ribs anymore than they had. This new shirt was open in the front, with an attached series of belts for closing it._

_That had taken way more time than it should have, but she wasn’t going to complain about it. She had finished cauterizing the shallower gash and was a-quarter of the way stitching up the deeper gash – the one that went down to the bone – when the hatch door opened. With her hands busy with needle and thread and her back to the door, Din was grateful that her helmet was still in place. The next thought was she was going to have to figure out a way to make it so no one could hack their way into her ship._

_Din didn’t voice that. Instead, she snarled over her shoulder, “What the fecking hell do you think you’re doing?” The group, Captain included, slowed, but didn’t stop – judging by their footsteps. The Captain and the four burliest men – judging by footsteps, approached with her. Din snarled a warning and dropped the needle and thread; reaching instead for her blaster._

_One of the men leaped for it and seized her wrist just as she got her hand on it. Grabbing her shoulder as another man seized her other shoulder. Together, they pulled her out of the medical hatch and out where the others could get her. She struggled for a moment before someone grabbed her injured leg. That made her near scream with pain. The needle had gone from just being on her skin to being jammed into her bone. Someone cursed and the hand adjusted. At this point, Din was near too far gone to feel additional pain. She was barely holding on to consciousness._

~ POV Change ~ {Captain Bowa Radnam}

 _The Captain hadn’t known how young the Mando was, until he saw the bare skin of his hands and his injured leg. Then he felt a little stunned. He had thought that the Mando that his fellow Captain had recommended was an older fellow. Bowa mentally shook himself. ‘_ Wonder about that later,’ _he chided himself, ‘_ Right now, this lad needs help.’

_The group that had help break into the Razor Crest had left so that there would be a clear path to the hatch. The four men holding each of the Mando’s limbs now became two men, one holding him up by his bent knees while the other supported the Mando’s head and shoulders on the opposite side. They all quickly left the Razor Crest and instead put him by the fire with the eight techs he had rescued. There the Captain got a good look at the leg that he had seen the Mando actually walk on while still injured and was near sick with nausea._

_The Mando had used some kind of powder on the wounds – probably to help stop the bleeding – and had actually cauterized the smaller gash and was stitching up the deeper one with needle and thread. The needle was actually standing erect somehow. The Captain glanced at the helmeted head. He wanted to take it off, to see the lad’s face, but he had been warned extensively about that point by the Captain who had recommended the Mando be part of the mission. ‘Don’t ever try to remove the helmet. Not even when you suspect there’s a head injury. The Mando will kill you for doing it.’_

_The tech who had the most experience as a medic had approached from where he had been gathering medical supplies and a lantern. The lantern was placed beside the leg, only for everyone who could see the leg and the details, gag. The needle had been erect, because it was actually embedded into the bone. The tech-medic looked at it and got out a pair of gloves. “Someone hold his legs, someone else keep his torso as still as possible while allowing him to breathe,” he said brusquely, “I’m going to be removing this and putting a bacta wrap on it. It is going to be painful and I don’t want him fighting.”_

_The two men from before – that had carried him down the hatch and put him as gently as they could by the fire – did the requested task. The Mando gasped and swore – still conscious then – and actually remained still throughout the process. He did start to protest a few times, before the man holding him down at the waist and shoulders snapped at him. “Listen,” he barked, “I don’t know what your problem is, but Doc here is going to put a bacta-wrap on your leg so you should be fine in a matter of days. Swallow that pride of yours and allow us to help you.”_

_The Mandalorian trembled with some kind of suppressed emotion. Captain Bowa didn’t want to speculate what was going on inside that bucket. He was sure it involved many violent deaths for everyone here, starting with the men holding him down. It took about fifteen minutes for the needle and stitches to be removed and the bacta wrap put on. Then, while the men were still pinning him down, the now-nicknamed “Doc” put a hand on the lad’s uninjured leg and bare wrist. Whatever he noticed made the “Doc” scowl, “You,” he growled down at the Mandalorian, “should be resting. You look human under that armor and have a temperature that is too high for your species. How long have you been ill?”_

_Bowa started, as did most of the others in the group, the Mando had been sick? For how long? Said-Mando growled and somehow managed to get from under the two men. Even as injured as he was, he still managed to get across the fire and moving closer to the Razor Crest, before anyone could grab him. Bowa sprang after him, as did the two men who had been holding him down, with a yell. That’s when the blaster came out and was unflinchingly pointed straight at the man who had snapped at the Mando._

_Everyone froze. A blaster was no joke and in the hands of an injured sick Mandalorian – who had no love for them – there was no telling what might set the lad off. The lad backed away; clearly favoring the injured leg, keeping the blaster pointed at the man. The Mando kept it like that all the way up the ramp of the Razor Crest. Then he disappeared inside._

_The entire group shuddered, only to see the Mando come back out. He was securing some sort of covering over his body. The Captain recognized it: it was the covering that the Mando had been wearing to go out on patrols! He couldn’t let him go out like that!_

_He approached the Mando, but he didn’t get far when that blaster came out and an almost feral growl was heard echoing off the hangar. “If you are going to try to go out like that, you have another thing coming,” he started. The Mando snarled again and said in a voice that reminded him of earlier, when he had apparently crossed a line he shouldn’t have, “I am taking the speeder to get the Wampa corpses. I will be back later. If there is anything else that can possibly be salvaged, I will bring that back too.”_

_With that, the Mando hopped onto the speeder and sped out of the hangar. The entire group was struck speechless. Most of them had seen the damage done to the Mando’s leg and wondered how the hell he could do those stunts, even with the bacta-wrap on. “Doc” just looked irritated._

_“Well, when he comes back,” he snapped as he got to his feet, “someone do me a favor, and somehow sedate him. He shouldn’t be out there at all, let alone for hours on end patrolling.” Captain Bowa Radnam nodded grimly and then asked “There wasn’t anything else that could be salvaged here?” He got the answer, a general no and additional information about there being no more burials to do. He nodded again, then paused. Turning he asked “Doc”, “Do you think that fever you said he had, maybe affecting his judgement?”_

_Doc looked over at him, probably thinking about that incident earlier, and nodded slowly. Then he gave the Captain a stern look, “You may want to find out what his side of the incident was,” he raised a hand at the protests coming from the six who had been pummeled, “I am not saying you either did or didn’t deserve the thrashing you got, but something set him off. My guess is, it was the helmet mostly.” Everyone looked at the Doc, who shrugged. “I didn’t get briefed as much on the care of Mandalorians as anyone who deals with them should, but I do know some things about their culture. They do not, under any circumstances, willingly take their helmets off. Helmets have a special meaning to every Mando,” the Doc walked back over to the fire and started packing up the materials he had used on the Mando, “it could be you touched something that was sacred. Or sacred to the Mando.”_

_Captain Bowa looked at the Doc, then at the hangar door that showed a chilly midafternoon. He hoped the Mandalorian would return soon. He would ask – just as a distraction from someone aiming to sedate him – the Mando what he considered his side of the incident._

_It was actually two hours later when the Mandalorian returned. He pulled in just as the sun was starting to set. The hangar doors were closed and barred any other nasty surprises from coming their way. The Mando got up from the pilot’s seat and limped heavily to off-load something; about a meter from the Crest’s ramp. Some of the technicians came over to help, when the Mando tossed three somethings over his shoulder and a very big wad of something white over the other. all the approaching team recoiled. There were three heads – all the size of an R2-unit if not bigger. How the hell, the Mando managed to carry that they could not guess._

_The Mando glanced over at them and then at the fire. He seemed to sigh and walked up the Crest’s ramp instead and dropping the heads and – what everyone seeing them came to realize were the wampa’s pelts – and heading deeper into the ship. When someone peered inside, they saw that the Mando was grabbing a couple of ration bars. Turning to them, he growled. They wisely left the Mando alone._

_Sick and injured as he was, he probably would kill them, if they tried to sneak up on him while he was trying to eat in peace. It was sometime later that they saw the Mando come back down the hatch, with a satchel on his shoulder. He had picked up the mess of heads and pelts and trudged over to the fire. He dumped them there and went to walk back to the speeder._

_Doc seized his shoulder and said sharply, “Stop it Mando!” The Mando went to seize Doc’s wrist, only for two others to snag his arms and hold on. Doc continued, “You are going to sit by the fire and warm up, before your chill yourself even further and cause that fever of yours to rise even higher! Others can unload the speeder, so sit down.”_

_The Mandalorian, who had been struggling with the two men, seemed to sag with defeat; the fight leaving him. Not entirely though. He managed to jerk out from all three holds and said “I am getting my harvesting kit. It is still in the speeder.” A couple of techs had already unloaded a portion of parts that the Mando had managed to find and it was one of them who brought another satchel – this one black-dyed leather with red embroideries that resembled a skull of some kind – to the fire beside the Mando._

_The Mando looked at them and nodded curtly. Taking his satchel from the tech who had brought it, he sat down beside his trophies. It was rather fascinating to watch actually – if quite disturbing too. The Mandalorian was cutting out the teeth and the tusks of each of the heads. After he did that, he would toss the head aside._

_Captain Bowa cleared his throat and sat down on the opposite side of the fire from him. “Mando,” he began. The Mando paused for a moment, then continued his work; now putting the teeth into a bowl that was packed with snow. ‘_ Where’d he get the bowl?’ _the captain wondered. The Mando got to feet and put said bowl just in the fire, pushing it a little further in with a nudge from a foot. Bowa gathered his thoughts again and started again, “Mando, what happened today?”_

_The Mando paused and this time looked up at him from where he was now taking some kind of rag to the tusks. The tone under the modulator was a kind of tired irritability, “Which time?” Bowa flushed, “Earlier, here.” The Mando straightened completely, removing all attention from the task of cleaning the tusks and seemed to look directly at him. Bowa tried to suppress a shudder. That blank black visor truly was an intimidating sight and he would bet that the glare from under that visor was somehow even worse. “ **That** ,” the Mandalorian growled, “ **That** was six morons desecrating a memorial shrine for my recently deceased father and you taking their side; **without** even listening to me. **And** ,” the growl was even deeper and more feral sounding than before, “ **you yourself,**_ **Captain _, crossing a line by implying such things about Mandalorians and our Honor.”_**

_The entire group were stunned and most probably felt like Captain Bowa himself felt about now. ‘_ I didn’t know,’ _he thought feeling guilt, ‘_ I didn’t even think that that might be the case.’ _A small voice whispered inside his head, ‘_ You didn’t ask, you never really trusted the Mandalorian.’ _He might have started to say something, only for the Mando to continue, in a less feral and more tired voice, “I guess, I should have expected it. After all,” disgust was coloring his tone now, “the Empire sure did a number on our reputation with their propaganda and slander.” That cut everyone. The six that had gotten beaten by the Mando looked particularly miserable._

_Now, the Mandalorian was taking the pelts and spraying them with something from his bag. He got up and laid the pelts out flat and sprayed them again. Then left them alone to get back to the task of cleaning the tusks. This was when the blue-streaked blonde spoke up, “I’m sorry, Mando.”_

_The Mando looked over at him, hands continuing to clean. The blonde continued, “I’m sorry for your loss and whatever I said about Mandos. I wasn’t here for whatever happened earlier, but I know how you feel about your father – ““No,” the Mando interrupted, “You don’t.” The blonde looked offended and looked about to speak when the Mando continued, “You don’t. You think you do, because you came from Alderaan, but you don’t. You and those like you were fighting the Empire and are still fighting against the government that committed that horrific atrocity. You also have sympathy from others. You might not like the pity, but it gives you some leeway with otherwise hard-asses.”_

_The Mando still had not looked away from the blonde, who was now looking a little stunned. None of the others had known that the Mandalorian knew anything about their backgrounds, since he never asked after them. He continued, his voice softer, but venom was creeping back into his voice, “Mandalore was persecuted long before the Empire came into the power. The so-called Golden Republic and their attack dogs, the Jedi Order also persecuted Mandalore. Our planet wasn’t made into a desert worse than Tatooine by our wars among each other. The Republic and the Jedi did that. Just a decade or so before the Empire was formed, our people were left for the most part to starve, even when the Duchess and the other leaders of Mandalore tried to work with the Republic, because the Republic placed an embargo upon the entirety of the Mandalore system. Our warriors were exiled, banished from their homes, to conform with the Republic’s demands. So, when the Separatists attacked, the civilians had no protection.”_

_The technicians were horrified, struck dumb by what was pouring out from the Mandalorian’s mouth. Captain Bowa was just as horrified. He had never heard of these things. The Mandalorian wasn’t finished though, “My biological parents were murdered by soulless machines. And it wasn’t the Republic or the Jedi who saved me, when the droid started to fire at me. It was Mandalorians. The Mandalorian who saved me, also adopted me. If they had left me for the Republic, no doubt I would have died within a month, starved.”_

_The Rebels wanted to protest this, but they couldn’t find the words from where they to have died in their throats. The man was continuing. “Brought into and raised in the fighting corps, I was trained to be a Mandalorian. For three years, I had stability and a much bigger family than I had ever hoped to have. That was when the Great Purge happened,” the voice which had seemed nostalgic when it talked of the Mandalorians and his time there, suddenly turned dark and full of hate, “The Empire attacked. With Alderaan, it was over in one fell swoop. Destroyed with one blast. Mandalore wasn’t so fortunate. The Empire laid waste to all on the surface, massacred all the warriors and older recruits that they could find. The warriors put up a fight, but they were outnumbered and outgunned. My adopted father was among them. The only reason he survived was because he had been blown away by a shell and buried under rubble. He was knocked unconscious.” The Mando looked away from the group as he told them this horrifying story, he seemed to be looking at something beyond the dim firelight, in the shadows from the tunnels, before looking down at his work. The group was listening, wondering where the story was going._

_The Mandalorian was done cleaning the all tusks. He had been cleaning them this whole time. They gleamed. Mando put the clothe that he had been using away as he continued to talk. It was the most any of them had ever heard a Mando speak before. “Those of us who were too young to put on a helmet, they wanted to capture us. Those that they could catch alive, they would drag out. They didn’t catch me of course. Of all the group of recruits, I saw them take away only seven. Seven of my comrades taken. I was only a child myself; I didn’t know what to do in a situation like this. So, I did what came naturally. I snuck about and tried to find others and the resources we would need to leave. It was a few days before my father found me, crippled and near dead. He had lost one leg and the other was broken in so many places that it was doomed to set crooked and cripple him even further. The Imps had left after that Night, but we followed them to the camp they had made some kilometers away after father had regained enough strength for the journey and the fight ahead. We were determined to get our fellows back.”_

_The group was wrapped around the story and its teller, feeling frozen and hopeful for the children they had never met, hopeful that the Mandalorian who was now dead would find a way to save them from whatever the Imps had planned for them. “While I had waited for father to regain enough strength to be able to fight, he told me where to find things. I managed to find two cybernetic legs for him and even a cache of knowledge from our archives and two other warriors. I brought both back to the place where my father was. While I was sneaking about, getting rations, I found the Razor Crest; hidden and docked in a secret hangar. I rushed back to tell the three elders, only to find my father near dead again – this time from blood loss. He had cut off the remains of his own legs and attached the two cybernetic ones I had found. And that the other two were replacing an arm on one of them.”_

_Everyone flinched and quite a few gagged. They couldn’t imagine the kind of pain tolerance and mental fortitude it would have taken to do that kind of thing. The Mando wasn’t done – not by a long shot. “It took another day or so, before we were ready to go and look for the others. When we did, we saw only horrors. Many of the Mandalorian warriors who had died, had been stripped of their_ beskar. _Some had been defiled in other ways, from being urinated on to other more horrific things. But we continued on. The corpses we left behind were just corpses now, the comrades gone. We swore we would find the others and the_ beskar _and make the Imps camped here, regret that they have ever existed.”_

 _All were trembling now, even Bowa. This story wasn’t going to end well. They could tell. The tone didn’t lighten, only darkened. “When we found the camp, we found Hell. The ground troops that had been on the ground had been taking their ease on the order of the officer. The officer in question had ordered the troops to bring him children of a certain age range, not for training; but for sport. The things that_ demagolka _did,” here the Mando shuddered and took a deep breath, “let’s just say it involved torture, droids and things no one let alone a child should have to go through.”_

_The implications of that near made everyone’s stomachs drop. They didn’t want to hear more. They wanted to flee, run away from what the Mando was telling them. Imparting a tale of such horror. The Mando’s voice seemed to growl, “You have never seen and maybe never heard of what happens when a Mandalorian loses their mind. The people that witness it, well most don’t survive the encounter in one piece, let alone alive. My father and the other two tore through the camp like an ion storm. The Imps weren’t ready for the three of them, nor for me. I was too busy destroying the cages where my comrades were held in, in the middle of the camp. The Imps may have numbered in the thousands when they first landed, but when they set up that camp, they were barely a hundred. And that hundred didn’t last for much longer than it took me to get that cage open.”_

_The Mando was now pulling the bowl of now-boiling water out of the fire, with a discarded bit of metal pole. He let the water cool while he continued, “I could have saved my effort in being careful when opening the cage. My comrades, children all, had been so tortured that they were too far gone to be saved. Even with a bacta tank right there, ready for use; they would have died. And in the end the other two warriors that I had found gave the mercy stroke to them while I was held by my father. Everyone was broken that day. Our home, our culture, our families, our children. **Gone**. Some we hoped were still alive somewhere, scattered among the stars, but that span of time is forever burned into our memories.”_

_The technicians wondered through their horror and shock, eyes swimming with tears, why? Why was the Mandalorian telling them this? The Mandalorian hadn’t finished, “The two warriors that had given the mercy strokes, never mentally recovered. We – my father and I – found their armor, all but their helmets the morning after and found those with the rest of them in what had been a fire. All the_ beskar _we could find, we brought back with us, when we returned to the little hideaway in Sundari. It took another day or so, for my father and I to leave Mandalore. We became bounty hunters.”_

 _“When we heard about the Rebel alliance, my father joined as a consulting hunter. Someone who could be depended on when they had the job. My father wouldn’t work for free, he had to look after me of course, but he did work at a heavy discount. The_ beskar _and the cache of knowledge we had managed to take with us; we made sure to put in a secure and secret location. We didn’t want to lose it, because we got boarded by the wrong person at the wrong time. And in the meantime, he taught me all that he could.”_

_“For seven years, he fought with crippled legs, old wounds that would give him such fevers as to think his blood had become magma and with the distrust of the Rebel Alliance.” Here all the group flinched and looked down in shame. Hadn’t they been treating this Mandalorian with disgusted contempt and distrust. The Mandalorian was winding down as he cleaned the teeth. “Not even a standard year ago, a group of Rebels got in trouble and were arrested. My father broke them out. It was there that he received the shot that would kill him. He died a warrior’s death, one that wouldn’t have happened without the Rebels messing up and getting captured. The group at least had the decency to bring him back to the base where I waited for him to come back.”_

_Here the Mando seemed to complete cleaning of the teeth and were sorting them out; keeping some and others were being tossed into the fire. He spoke once more, “My father, who had saved me, taught me and cared for me; died because of the Rebels with him, who didn’t bother to look out for him until the last minute, when he died. I didn’t leave the Rebellion Alliance after that for only one reason: my father’s honor. His sworn word that we would fight with the Rebellion – not join it, but work with it – until the Emperor was dead at least.”_

_The teeth – now gleaming like the tusks – were put in the satchel that the Mando had had around his body this entire time. The tusks were also put in the same satchel. The Mandalorian got up from where he was sitting, pulling something else out of the black satchel – cords by the look of them. He went over to the pelts and studied them. Seemingly satisfied with what he saw, he began to roll them up and tie them into neat bundles with the cords he had brought. The group of technicians were silent, feeling shell shocked by what had come flooding out of the Mando. The silence lasted until the Mando straightened from rolling up the pelts. He looked over at the group and said, “You are no doubt wondering why I told you that sorry tale. A tale that spanned across so many horrors and such tragedy. It is for you to understand.”_

_The group roused a little, looking over at the Mandalorian, he continued, “You need to understand that there are lines you should never cross. You – as a whole – crossed many in the last week; most especially today. Since the salvaging and burials are done, there is no need for us to remain on this planet. Since there is no need, I shall be departing soon for my next mission. I would recommend that you do the same. I don’t think that I shall have speech with any of you again.” The group was sitting, still frozen around the fire that still crackled merrily in the center._

_“And remember,” as he turned to walk to his ship, he threw over his shoulder “if ever you should meet another Mandalorian, know that they will take slights against their honor even worse than I do. After all, you’re protected by my father’s sworn word; not theirs.” The hatch closed up behind him._

_It took the technicians, including Captain Bowa, a long time to get over the fact that the Mandalorian had just left them there at the fire and had gone back into his ship. It took them a slightly shorter time to realize what the Mando had been implying. It only took about half an hour to pack up what they had set out during the week. Many of them taking furtive glances at the Razor Crest._

_Captain Bowa opened the hangar doors to a clear night sky, full of stars. Beckoning to him. He went over to the ship he had been on and ordered the small fleet to set out for the coordinates for the rendezvous with the rest of the fleet. The Razor Crest was the last to leave._

**{Flashback Ending} Present Time**

Din shook her head. So much memory in the time it took to land in the old Rebellion’s smallest hangar – one dedicated for local planet flyers mostly. She really would have to get her head into the Hunt and stay off trails that led to the past. Din had some bail-jumpers to catch.

She took out all eight tracking fobs and found that they all beeped faster in one single direction; further into the compound. Din sighed as she went through the compound’s tunnels. It took her about ten minutes of slinking down the tunnels to get to where her targets were. They weren’t alone.

Five people, who looked to be hostages or prisoners, were loading great slabs of what looked like ice onto the freighter that was parked in the hangar – the one where she had imparted that tale of misery to the Rebels that were there. She eyed the scene. The hostages were cowed and looked to be shivering. One looked familiar though. Seven of the eight bounties were arguing over some piece of equipment that was sitting on the top of the ship. The eighth was overseeing the loading of the cargo.

Perfect. The Amban rifle was taken from her back and set for a wide-spread stun. She aimed and fired twice, once at the big group of jumpers, the next at the eighth and the hostages. They would all be alright, but she didn’t have time for hysterics. She again wanted to get off this planet fast.

As she approached the group quickly, she took one of the carts that hadn’t been loaded with the ice slabs and Force lifted the stunned bastards onto it. Securing them with cuffs from her pouch where she kept such things, she looked over at the ice more carefully. What she found made her stumped for a moment.

She was looking at a load of pure ice. Deep-blue Ice with swirling white flecks in them. They looked almost manufactured – they were too perfect for nature to create. Or at least, for nature to create and then sentient beings being lucky enough to find it and in such quantities. The stunned were now moaning; she waited for them to awaken. The hostages were an unknown. If it was something like a hostage of innocents, she’d leave them the ship. Though as a precaution, she stunned the bail jumpers on the cart. They would probably wake up with headaches, just before she put them in carbonite.

The hostages groaned and got unsteadily to their feet. When the one that looked familiar turned to look around, she – the hostage – did a double take and then nodded deeply in her direction. “Mandalorian,” her voice was soft spoken and made memory flare again. Din couldn’t put a name on it, but it was something from before. She mentally shook herself. A nod and then she turned away. She Felt no true malice coming from the woman and she wanted to get these bail-jumpers secured.

The woman tried to stagger towards her with a plea of “Wait!”. Din turned and held out a hand in a universal gesture of ‘wait a moment,’ and went back to the Crest. She could have called it to her, but the autopilot didn’t work so well for underground maneuvers. About five minutes – half the time it took before because she didn’t have to be quiet anymore and could actually jog all the way back to her ship – she had started loading the bail-jumpers into carbonite. It took a few minutes with each one. She waited patiently as the slabs set. The last two jumpers were put in awake; the double-stunning had worn off by then.

When all was finished, she went back to the hostages. They were all awake and the woman who had seemed familiar seemed to also be in charge. As she approached, the woman was tucking a blanket more firmly around another’s shivering shoulders. About a meter away, Din cleared her throat. All five beings jumped; two giving little shrieks of surprise. The woman whirled around; hand pressed over her heart. “Mando,” she snapped, “for the sake of my old heart, don’t do that to me!”

Din just looked at her. The woman shook her head in near-exasperation, “You haven’t changed a bit, have you?” she asked rhetorically. Din just continued to look at her. With another shake of her head, the woman sat down by a heat generator that they had all been gathered around.

Din said, “I have the bounties, you may have the ship and its cargo. There is only one question that I have.” The hostages looked up, and the woman asked “What?”

“Where did you find those slabs of ice?” The woman looked at the slabs and scoffed. “They were found about five kilometers north. We should know, since they are part of our project.” Din tilted her head, and the woman continued, “We are scientists for the New Republic,” gesturing to the group at large, “We were assigned a mission to this system and told about an old Rebel compound here that could be used as a base for us. Our purpose was to gather pure permafrost ice and see if it could be used for making anything other than good-looking ice statues. We had just finished doing the harvesting when those womp rats showed up and blew our ship to kingdom come.”

The grimace that was on her face was filled with angry bitterness. “All our research went up in the blast, as did most of our supplies and communication systems. The womp rats told us to start loading the ice onto their ship instead. They also wanted more, so we had to go and get some. Greedy pigs.” Din looked at her as the woman flushed purple. She answered the woman, “The bounties are now in carbonite and you now have another ship. I suggest you use it, to get back to the Core. Thank you for answering the question.” And with that, Din turned and walked away. There was something about that bit about the ice that she wanted to investigate.

As she was taking out the speeder bike from the hatch for it, Din continued to think of where she had seen that woman before. ‘ _It is of no concern now,’_ she thought to herself, ‘ _either I will or I will not remember where I have seen her. It doesn’t matter now.’_ And with that, she was off; speeding towards the place that the woman had claimed to have gotten the permafrost ice from. Minutes later, she found the spot and was surprised.

For there were indeed signs that there had been extensive quarrying done in the permafrost. The thing that surprised her the most wasn’t that, but the location. It was on a mountain side and just about a kilometer above was the peak and on that peak was a formation that reminder her of something. A Feeling. She sometimes really, _really_ hated those _Feelings._ They always led to something big happening. But she was a Mandalorian, it went against her training to run from trouble. She hunted it. So, she took the speeder up that kilometer. It was kind of surprising that her speeder could do that. Usually, they couldn’t go over steep terrain very well. She would definitely be checking out what the modifications were on this thing the next time she was on-planet – well, the next time she was on-planet that wasn’t a freaking floating ice-ball and had no targets on them for her to hunt down, she would do it then.

She got off the bike and saw just what was giving off the Feeling and the light. It was a formation alright. A formation of mixed crystals that had a blaze mix of white clearness and icy pale blue. It was about two feet tall and seemed to cap the mountain. Din knew then that she had to take some with her. The wind was buffeting her where she stood and it made her grateful that she had parked the bike in a semi-sheltered spot of ice and rock.

As she had no tools that could cut the crystal, so she decided to try it with using the Force. Simply lifting the crystals away from the rock bed, it was situated in. The formation flared and she instinctively covered her eyes. That had been too fast for the visor’s functions to compensate for suddenness. When she uncovered her eyes, she gasped in startlement. The crystals had split into various sized pieces and were hovering before her in a strange way. With her startlement, the crystals seemed to shake in the air. She willed them to lower to the ground in a neat pile.

As they did, she took a deep breath and let it out. The Feeling hadn’t vanished, but there was something saying something. It was too tinny, too far away to make out what it was saying, but she wasn’t about to wait around to find out either. Taking her hidden sack from her back, she began to just shove pieces of the crystals into it. Stuffing it full, then she added the remaining crystal into her other pouches. These were worth carrying. She didn’t know why yet but she would find out.

It took about half an hour to get down the mountain again, only to see that the former smugglers’ ship hadn’t left yet. It had parked outside the hangar where she had landed the Razor Crest. The woman was standing beside her ship looking up at it, but had turned on hearing the speeder bike approach. Din started at the woman. ‘ _What was her issue?’_ She thought, slightly vexed. She dismounted from the bike and started to pack it away in the hatch for it. She could see the other four staring from the cockpit’s windows.

That was when the woman blurted out, “I wanted to ask you something.” Din rolled her eyes, ‘ _Hear we go.’_ “Were you on this planet before?” was the question that came out of her mouth. Din turned a little to look over her shoulder at the woman and went back to putting away the bike, seeming to ignore her. The woman continued, “My uncle has been. He knew a Mandalorian. He said if I ever got the chance to meet a Mandalorian, I should ask after his leg.” That comment made Din stop securing the hatch and turn to look at her again. This time she didn’t turn away.

The woman gulped and said, “He – my uncle – was the one that was called Beany. He had wanted to thank the Mandalorian that was here. He and his wife were both on the team that had been attacked by a trio of wampas, when the Mando saved them. I,” she swallowed harshly, “I also want to thank that Mando. He saved my favorite uncle and my aunt. Because of him, I now have three cousins. And he also wanted me to ask after the Mando’s story.”

Din closed her eyes with sheer exasperation at her younger self. If she hadn’t been so pissed off, sick with fever and grief, injured and tired of everything; she wouldn’t have been so free with knowledge of herself. She didn’t owe this woman anything, she didn’t owe her uncle anything either, but she Felt that the woman would follow her, now that she knew about her existence until she got the answer to her question. She would be all too tempted to shoot the other ship out of the sky if that was attempted.

Din closed the hatch the rest of the way and locked it. Now, she turned and looked at the woman. Her face was red from cold and embarrassment. A moment, Din spoke, “Your uncle never did like that nickname while we were on the same mission. You may tell him that the leg is fine and that story is still going, just with less tragedy on my end.” The woman looked startled for a moment then seemed to beam at her. She looked torn between bowing and hugging her. Din wasn’t about to let her though; she nodded a farewell and opened the hatch.

The woman – Beany’s niece apparently – Felt like she was going to follow her for a moment, only to be drawn up short by the sight of the carbonite slabs, just in sight of from the ramp. Fine with her, if she could just go. This whole trip on-planet had taken half a day already, not counting the trip through hyperspace and getting in and out of the atmosphere. She really didn’t like Hoth and she wanted off.

Later, she got her wish. Both ships had left Hoth. One heading for the Core of the New Galactic Republic, and her Razor Crest shooting towards that Imperial refueling station. If she got to just destroy it and maybe some droids, Din felt like she would perk up.


	9. Chapter Eight: On the Way to Canto Bight & Deepening Mysteries:

**Later, she got her wish. Both ships had left Hoth. One heading for the Core of the New Galactic Republic, and her Razor Crest shooting towards that Imperial refueling station. If she got to just destroy it and maybe some droids, Din felt like she would perk up.**

**Now on with the Journey: In a galaxy far, far away…**

Din Djarrin was finishing her lovely supper while she contemplated her takings from the last two jobs, when she got a communication from the Guild on Nevarro. Making sure her helmet was positioned properly and the haul were still in their bags; she opened the communication. Greef Karga. He looked awe-struck.

“Mando!” He greeted boisterously, “I just received word about your last job! Wonderful. I don’t know what you did, but you really impressed the client. He was a little disappointed that you were already on another string of jobs, but he paid the bounty in full with a little extra. If you would, please share what you did to make him so happy. He already has another bounty job; this one for anyone in the Guild. We do need repeat customers.” ‘ _So,’_ Din thought, as she listened to Karga wax eloquently, ‘ _the former client for that gang was so pleased that he paid extra. Hmm, why?’_ She flipped the switch that would allow her to actually talk back to Karga.

_~ POV Change ~ {Greef Karga}_

He was surprised when the communication console he was using went from transmitting one way to a hologram of the Mandalorian to pop up on the console. The Mando said, “Why did he pay extra? He had already paid me the full amount and a tip when I was on-planet. The portion from that for the Guild has already been set aside. As for what I did,” the Mando paused and made a noise that didn’t translate properly, “The job wasn’t too detailed on the puck. It had some, but not much. When I arrived, there was already a small group, seven, waiting on me. They wanted money for “rent”. Six were shot dead and the seventh played unwilling tour guide, until I found the actual client. The real client wanted me to shoot the idiot in the head. Instead, I shot him in the back of the knee. Enough to cripple the idiot and leave him to the mercies of the Client. It has to be one of the quickest done jobs, not very fulfilling. I trust the Client got much satisfaction from his pastime?”

Karga blinked at the hologram of the Mandalorian. He hadn’t expected that the Mando would communicate back or for the information that he shared. The Client – who was actually a gangster with ties to the Hutts – wasn’t one to pay double – or even triple, depending on the size of the tip. “Thanks for calling back Mando,” he said instead of repeating the information. The other hunters were listening in, some looking impressed, but a lot looked sullen. The job string that had been given to the Mandalorian had all asked for a Mandalorian or the Ghost to have it done. Thirteen jobs, that had been more than had come into the Guild in two years. Hopefully, the other jobs would take him longer to do.

Not expecting any kind of answer, Karga asked, “How are the other jobs going? Are you in route?” The silence that followed made him almost believe that the Mando had hung up on him, but no. “Eight other jobs done, still in route to the tenth.” The deadpan statement that came over the console startled him into replying with a “What?” The Ghost seemed to look at him, then shook his head. Now the Mando hung up.

“Already on the tenth?” was a voice that came strangled out of another hunter’s mouth. Greef looked over at the crowd. They were all staring at the console with a mix of awe, anger, and – what looked to him – lust that had just shown the Mando’s upper body. The Twi’lek that had first read the Ghost’s contract after him looked especially hungry. Greef tried to ignore it, stomping down on his own libido. There was something about the speed at which the Ghost seemed to complete his work.

A few of the more inexperienced grumbled about liars and Mandos. It was there that the oldest hunter there – a scarred and white-haired human – looked over at the young disbelievers and snorted. “I should like to see the many pieces the Mandalorian will leave you in if you say that too many times,” He said then chuckled, “more pucks for those of us who know better than to pick a fight with the Ghost.” Here, he beckoned to the bartender for a drink and said, “While we wait for more pucks, if you care to listen, I will tell you a tale I know about the Ghost.”

Greef turned off the console and reminded himself to get a smaller one that he could use without being overheard by everyone that would be fit to use for galactic communications. With one ear tuned to listening to the oldest hunter in the Guild tell the story that already made some listeners turn pale, he started looking down at the list of jobs. There was one from the Client that the Mando had dealt with. The message with the payment had been glowing and the Client had stated that he would put in a word for the Guild – the Mandalorian in particular – with the Hutts.

_~ POV Change ~ {Din Djarrin}_

Din shook her head as she turned off the communications. She shouldn’t have done that, but hey; she didn’t want Karga so surprised that he had a heart attack. She had a contract with him and the Guild, she didn’t want to waist such a contract. Getting up she put the dishes in the sink to start cleaning. Glancing at the alarm she had set before she made the jump to Hyperspace, she saw she had about five minutes to be in the cockpit to make the approach to the refueling station. She’d have to be quick.

‘ _Well,’_ she thought amused a little, Forcing the crystals to be in the closet with the carved and still uncarved Ravinak tusks – along with her other trophies she hadn’t dropped off at her “Home Base” yet – and Force consolidating all the money (except the Imperial ones, those she put in a separate pouch) from the pouches she got off the dead thugs into her own money pouch, ‘ _I do need the practice.’_ Climbing up the ladder as the closet door was closed and the money pouch was reattached to her belt.

Din got situated and was ready when the Razor Crest exited out of Hyperspace to approach the refueling station. This one was different from the previous one, by one very big difference. It looked like it had already been attacked and near destroyed completely. She frowned in puzzlement and growing irritation. The last two jobs had been unfulfilling and one had been on _Hoth_. She wanted to blow up some Imps, damn it!

As she approached, she saw that while it had been mostly destroyed, there were signs that the attackers had taken hardware – lots of hardware. It took a few minutes for her to see what was left and come up with another conclusion than the station just being destroyed. It had been harvested. It wouldn’t have been by the Jawas. They didn’t have the firepower to take this thing out, even if only manned by droids.

Checking and circling, Din wondered about the puzzle in front of her. Who would do this? Who had the capacity? There was nothing here for her though and it made her even more irritable. She turned on all the sensors and went over everything she could find. She wanted to know who had done this! It took a near an hour for her to find a trail. It wasn’t much, but with all the modifications that she and the Jawas had done over the years, she still found it. It was a slight trail, like the ship that had made it had been badly damaged and extensively repaired. Only ships that had seen a lot of combat would leak that kind of gas.

The trail eventually led her to the boundaries between the Unknown Regions and the Outer Rim. The scowl that was on her face was a mix of rage and puzzlement. Who would have done this? Was it an ally? Old Rebels? New Republic? Someone else? People claimed that the Empire was gone, but she knew better. It had just gone underground, off sensors for the most part.

Knowing that she couldn’t go any further into the Unknown Regions, she left the trail; making a mental note to have that refueling station marked only as possibly destroyed. It could simply have been recycled by the Imperial remnants after all. She put the trail signature in her database. If the ship came up somewhere else in the Outer Rim, she’d eventually find it. For now, she would continue onto those shipyards.

It actually was a little shorter trip, but she got to the first shipyard. It orbited a small moon and seemed it could only handle two old Imperial Star Destroyers at a time. And indeed, there was one on the dock. The place actually had the look of being in operation though. Din was grateful that her ship was off the sensors of even the newer parts of the Old Republic. After all, her ship was very old and extensively modified. She might want to do this one with some help though. That wouldn’t stop her from getting some information for later.

The first things that she noticed was that the Star Destroyer was an older model, not so many weapon turrets as the newer models had had and actually looked like it might have been one of the models that could land on a planet. ‘ _That Star Destroyer…,’_ Din thought to herself musing as she kept collecting data on the shipyard, ‘ _I might not be able to fly it alone. The crew needed to pilot such a craft would number in the thousands…but I am not getting that many lifeform readings on scanners. Nor am I Feeling that many lives. Why not? Are there droids doing the operations? Or something else?’_ After a long moment, Din decided to approach the shipyard.

The closer she got, the more her puzzlement and growing excitement. The lifeforms she was sensing were not near enough to pilot such a craft nor operate this shipyard. That must mean that there were a considerable number of droids doing the work. She decided that maybe she could take this thing out on her own. She needed more practice using the _Beskad_ and the _Dinuir Haran Redalur_ in actual combat rather than just katas.

She looked for the blind spot. Places like this always have blind spots. Where contracts cut as many corners as they could to save credits or even where the designs fell through. Twenty minutes later, a predator’s smile bloomed on Din’s face. A small hangar on the bottom of the Star Destroyer itself was where she put her Razor Crest. Activating on the Ground Zero Security Protocols just in case some idiot Imp came into this hangar. With her _Buir’s Beskad_ strapped across her back, under her cloak and her Amban rifle crossed just over it, Din left the hangar; concentrating on the Force to make her as close to invisible as possible.

Two hours later, she got to the command center and looked it over. It was empty, completely deserted. There was not a single droid or organic being on the entire blasted ship. It took her a while to find the place where the Star Destroyer was docked onto the shipyard. When she exited, Din looked for the control center for the shipyard. She had seen it already in her outside scouting, it would take a little stroll to get there. She passed a few contingents of droids, all doing maintenance or recharging. There weren’t even any security droids wondering around. She wondered about that a little, but put it out of her mind for the moment.

When she got to the shipyard’s command center, she saw seven technicians in Imperial garb. She was very close to killing them all, when she saw the collars. Each of the technicians had a collar that pulsed red. When they looked at the door, she knew they saw no one. One of them, even went and looked out into the hallway left and right; probably trying to see who was playing a joke. When he got back from his check, another asked in a tired voice, “Who was there?” The tech that had checked shook his head and replied in an equally dull tone, “No one.” That was about the time the collars flashed crimson in a pattern. The techs to a man, flinched and left the control room together.

Din frowned. Never had she seen collars on Imperial techs before, only on – that’s when it hit her. There was no one now in the room but her. This is when she went over to the security consoles. There were cameras at strategic points, including the mess hall that was attached to the Shipyard. It was there, that she saw the missing crew for the Star Destroyer. It was a mixed bag of species, most being humans; they all had the pulsing red collars on them. Correcting herself, she saw that there looked to be officers that didn’t have the collars. Din also noticed other differences.

Most of those eating looked hollow-eyed and gaunt-cheeked. Some had visible dark circles under their eyes. The officers looked much better. Some of them had circles under their eyes, but none of them were gaunt. And some, some had a look on their faces as they looked over the crew members, that made her want to take a mind flayer to them. She turned her attention back to the consoles around her.

She saw the console that doubled as an archive. Din smirked, _‘Imperials have to be uniform, have to be the same; no matter what the facilities were supposed to be used for.’_ Din started the transfer of the information on the Shipyards’ archives. Seeing how long it would take, she went to the next console that caught her attention. There she found out what kind of security the Shipyard had. There was even a message that she read. That message – with its tone of condescension and arrogance – made her lips curl in a sneer of disgust and rage.

Apparently, the security was towards those pulsing red collars and those that wore them. The Imps were not worried about the New Republic. The thought among the Imperial high-ups was that the New Republic wouldn’t have the resources nor the time to look into every single system in the galaxy and that by the time that they got to this specific location, the place would be abandoned; its job done.

The security went on in detail about the collar wearers were basically conscripted slaves and prisoners from the former Imperial prisons like Accresker and Imperial factories. There was one officer that had the “keys” to the collars; the captain of the Star Destroyer. Going back over to the console with the cameras in the mess hall, she saw that the crew were still eating. What they had looked about as unappetizing as a ration could get. She didn’t think the people on Jakku would mistake it for food.

The feeling of pity wasn’t something Din was used to feeling for Imps, but could these really be classified as Imps? Prisoners and slaves didn’t really have any free will or a way to fight the Imps. She read another bit of the security protocols. The Security and Battle Droids were powered down until they were given emergency power to fight off anyone that came calling. The problem was that the security would only be activated if someone landed on the shipyards docking, not on the ship that was already docked. Dark amusement bubbled into her chest. It took only about a minute for her to initiate a self-destruct sequence for when the Star Destroyer left the shipyard and was about thirty minutes out, while broadcasting a distress call for a problem that would cause a self-destruct. What exactly would start the self-destruct would be left to whoever approached imaginations.

Checking the surveillance console, she noticed that the crew was rising and leaving the mess hall. A beeping brought her attention to the information console. The data-block was finished putting all the information that was available on the console for transport. She Force-floated the thing and quickly left the command center and went to look for the Captain. She wanted a word.

**[Two hours later]**

Din found the Captain in the officer’s quarters later. The rest of the officers had already been dispatched and put in the Shipyard’s mess hall. The Captain had been remonstrated with for a time before he broke and confessed to everything he knew. Recording the session, her disgust at the pathetic Captain grew to the point she wanted to jettison him into space alive, with enough oxygen and rations to last him for as long as it would take him to die from freezing to death, but she told herself that that would be a waste of resources. Instead, she ended the bastard’s life, dispatching him with a slash across his jugular with her vibro-blade, Din didn’t need him anymore. Taking the “keys” off the corpse, she went to make sure that the droids were loading the Star Destroyer with everything that could be loaded onto it.

This was when she thought for a moment and sighed with supreme irritation. She knew that the crew for the Star Destroyer were exhausted and would need the rest, but she wanted to leave now. Which meant only one thing: droids. Din didn’t want droids anywhere near her, but she couldn’t put crew through what was needed without having them drop near dead.

It took about thirty minutes to go back to the command center for the Shipyard and another thirty minutes to give the astro-mech droids orders to be a temporary crew for the Star Destroyer. Going back to the Star Destroyer, she told the astro-mech to set a course for the second shipyard. She wanted to see if there was anything there to salvage there as well.

One her way back to the Razor Crest, she fought the yawns and knew that she would need a nap – a long one. She probably should sleep for at least five hours. According to the Captain’s confession, the crew were automatically locked into their quarters and were only released when it was time for their shift and the meals. She felt safe enough for a nap. The next shipyard was about five hours away and it would depend on what she found there, the fate of that one.

**[Four Hours Later]**

Din’s nap was solid, but she knew that she would need an actual sleep cycle soon. Two ration bars and a cup of caf was her meal as she stretched and got ready for seeing what this shipyard had. Checking the data-block that she had hooked up to her big computer, she saw it was done cleaning and downloading the information. Din would look into that when she got back. Exiting the Razor Crest, she strode to the command center and looked at the droid-crew. She didn’t trust any of the things, not really, but she needed to use them.

She looked over at the console that blared an alarm. They were leaving Hyperspace in four, three, two, one… What met her eyes was a ruin. This Imperial shipyard had definitely been destroyed. There must have been no ships here at the time, there was no debris that indicated ships, but right now, she wished she was using the sensors of the Razor Crest. The Star Destroyer’s sensors weren’t picking anything up though. So instead of attacking or destroying another shipyard, she commanded the droids in charge of the tractor beams to salvage some pieces of the shipyard. She was beginning to have a plan for a shipyard – of a sort – for her own.

But that would take time and resources. ‘ _Might as well take the resources from the Imps.’_ She thought to herself. Even if she didn’t get that shipyard she was thinking about, she could maybe sell the pieces to one of those big corporations. Maybe even some of these damnable machines.

It was so irritating though; this was the third target that she didn’t get to really blow up. Though this felt more like what happened to the factory than the refueling station. She decided to go back to the Razor Crest to see about the information that been taken from the shipyard’s archives. It might be better on fuel if she just went to the next target that was actually there! The salvage work would take a while anyway.

It actually took about an hour and a half to salvage what could be and while that was happening, Din was looking over the information she had acquired from the shipyard. It was as recent as a month ago and dealt with everything in this parsec. It was an enlightening, if sickening read. One of the “Academies” was actually an academy that had been evacuated and abandoned about a standard year ago. The two refueling stations had been recycled and “destroyed” and the parts went the “Project Beyond”. The four factories – _three more than expected and known_ – had either been attacked and destroyed or had gone the same way as the refueling stations. There was one storage compound still active, guarded by a legion of storm troopers and the last “Academy” was on the same planet, also guarded by a legion of storm troopers. That made her frown in wonder as she made her way back to the Command Center.

Directing the droids to set a course for the “Academy”, her smile made a hidden appearance, again. The “Academy” was two weeks away. The ship had enough fuel – thanks to the salvaging droids – to last the ship for a full year. That would be enough. Her Star Destroyer re-entered hyperspace and left behind the destroyed shipyard.

**[Seven Hours Later]**

Din saw from the surveillance cameras placed in the crew quarters, that the prisoners were waking up and getting confused. They probably hadn’t slept so long in a very long time. It had been about fourteen hours by her estimation since they had been locked into their quarters. It had taken some preparation, but she had found medical supplies, much better rations than what they had been eating at the shipyard and made an actual stew for them the eat, and bodysuits in better condition than what they were wearing at the moment. Not much better, but it was the thought that counted. She had even gotten a Meditative Nap in. Though she would want a real sleep cycle soon enough.

She had disengaged the locking mechanisms for the sleeping areas and was now waiting in the gallery closer to the medical supplies than to the food. The crew, she Felt, were nervous. Then again, they had no idea that Captain and his officers had been disposed of like the trash they were and that a Mandalorian bounty hunter now controlled the ship. The first to actually into the gallery was an elderly Ugnaught.

They looked startled at the sight of her, rather stunned actually. Din tilted her head slightly and then slowly beckoned to them to come forward. “Don’t be afraid,” she said. A few other crew members looked around the corner to see what the Ugnaught was looking at and looked just as startled as the Ugnaught. The Ugnaught seemed to get over the fact that there was a Mandalorian in the gallery and cautiously approached. They asked in a voice that made her think the Ugnaught was female, “Who are you?”

Din looked at her and said, “I am the Commander of the Ship now. The Imps that I remonstrated with left it under my authority.” She could see that the other female had read between the lines and stiffened when she pulled out the “keys” to the collars. Din hated the look of the things, pulsing like some sort of sick-heart monitoring system. She held the “key” out to the Ugnaught. All – the Ugnaught and the other crew members craning around the doorway leading to the gallery – flinched, but froze with shock when the collar fell off the Ugnaught’s neck. Taking a brush with a container of bacta-gel, Din approached the Ugnaught and silently offered her the brush and container.

Just as silently, the Ugnaught took the brush and lightly put it on the marks that the collar had left in her flesh. Din was already retreating to get another container of bacta-gel, when the Ugnaught finished. She – the Ugnaught – looked over at her, before turning to the other crew members, some coming out of hiding and starting to approach. “This is a Mandalorian,” she spoke calmly – with a hidden tremor in her voice – “They command this ship and us now.”

It took a few minutes for all the crew to come out. In total, two-thousand people and one by one they came up to Din and she removed the collars and tossed the wretched things into a collection of crates. The bacta-gel was direly needed and some of the crew actually looked like they needed a bacta-tank – which the ship had, but not enough bacta for everyone – and it pained Din that all that was available for use were bacta-gel and bacta-wraps for now. The first – she estimated mid-thirties – human male flinched and trembled as she removed the top of his body suit and applied the wrap to the mottled ribs. Some of the others had to remove their shirts for the same reason or for whip marks on their backs. Some had to be treated for horrible burns. The others were not as recently marked, but would definitely need feeding up. They weren’t as skeletal as Mona had been when Din had first seen her, but it was quite clear that some of them were needing to rest before they fell ill completely from exhaustion.

As she finished treating them, she would point to the food, waiting for them. That is what had actually taken up most of her time earlier, actually cooking enough to satisfy two-thousand starving people. She knew that they probably wouldn’t be able to handle too much, but she thought a really thick stew would do the trick.

Some of them for-went treatment – only having the collar removed – and started putting the stew on plates. They were loading up two to three bowls of food and taking them to the tables. At first, Din hadn’t understood then she saw some of the older ones being handed the bowls and some of the more injured being fed so as not to smear the bacta-gel on their hands and forearms.

She had looked over the files on this crew when she was making the food and gathering the medical supplies. Most of these people were part of families either sold entirely to the Empire – like the Ugnaughts – or arrested on charges like being Rebel-sympathizers. Some – a small minority – had been out and out kidnapped and held with the threat of what would happen to them if they caused trouble.

It had taken a good three hours all the crew do be de-collared and fed. Now was the time for her to make a speech. She mentally sighed, she had never done such a speech for such a large group before. But she was a Mandalorian. She would do so without looking like a complete idiot. She stood up on the table where the used medical supplies lay. The crew was silent as they all looked to her. All those eyes, trained on her.

A deep breath in and she began, “I am known as the Ghost Mandalorian,” she saw some faces look surprised, “You may call me Ghost, Mando or Mandalorian. I care not. As of this moment, the Empire no longer controls you. The collars of which were on you will be taken to the incerator and destroyed.” Here there were relieved looks and dawning hope.

Din continued, “There are some of you here who have young ones. Children that were taken with you. According to the files that were in the possession of your former Commander and Captain, all are still at the same _Academy_.” Here she saw a majority of them lose the looks of relief and hope, and gain faces of dread or blank stoicism. She continued, “That is our next destination. It is a week away at our current speed. Those of you who can, are welcomed to fight, but I will not lie to you. There is a legion of Imps standing between you and your families. And on the same planet is a storage compound with another legion guarding that who will no doubt come to the aid of their Imperial comrades. That is a rough estimate of four-thousand Imps.”

She could see the crew blanch with fear, but she could Feel determination and a desire to reunite with their loved ones. Din continued, her voice becoming stronger, “But this Star Destroyer is a Victory-I Class Star Destroyer. It is capable of landing on a planet. It has shielding capabilities that the Imps would need serious firepower, not blasters to even scorch the hull. It has enough firepower to blow any Tie-fighter or Imp to kingdom come. It now has two crews. You all and a droid one repurposed from the shipyard you were on. Then there is me,” here the crew were looking animated and ready to take on the Empire in its entirety, all eyes were burning.

“I am a Mandalorian bounty hunter with a grudge the size of a parsec for the Empire. I have my own ship with my own weapons. I plan to take both the Academy and the Storage Compound, starting with the Academy. Will you aid me?” She asked. The crew looked almost eager, despite pain and exhaustion. Some were already nodding and none looked hesitant. Din looked out at them. “Will you all run with a Mandalorian and give the Imperials an unforgettable message?” Some were standing now, looking like their bloodlust was up and ready to tear into some Imps.

“Will you all run with me and meet your families on the other side of the battle to come? Will you tear through those between you and them?” Here a ragged cheer started, even those who looked like they were ready to drop into a coma – they were so tired – looked eager. Din silenced them with what she said next, “We have a week. A week for you to regain energy and strength. I can see you have the will. Now all you need is the weapons that will give your will tangible effects. In the week to come, you will eat, rest and heal. Together, we will plan and together, we will win.” There was another ragged cheer, louder than the last. Din nodded and came down off the table. She nodded to the gallery. “One of you can ask one of the droid crew to do the dishes and help locate more medical supplies. I will be in the Razor Crest. Good rest to you all.”

And with that she turned and marched out of the crew’s living quarters. It would take a while to get down to the hangar where her ship was and she wanted a real sleep cycle. And one of her own meals afterwards.


	10. Chapter Nine: Pit Stop Battle & Death Rattle:

**Sorry about the Force-forsaken wait. My computer was conking out and I had to go through a herculean quest to get it back up. Almost an eternity later and it is fixed up enough to get this thing back up and running. Ugh… Unfortunately, I lost about a library’s worth of work – the twenty COMPLETED chapters for this story included! That’s just one of the things that Life hit me with. Ugh, starting two new jobs, a few home repairs, a severe case of food poisoning, election, a COVID-19 scare AND getting shot at; on top of this malarkey… I hope Karma pays off with a winning big-time lottery ticket any day now. …ANYWAY, ENOUGH ABOUT THE CRUDE I HAVE GONE THROUGH, ON WITH THE STORY!!!**

**And with that she turned and marched out of the crew’s living quarters. It would take a while to get down to the hangar where her ship was and she wanted a real sleep cycle. And one of her own meals afterwards.**

Din slept for a long time when she got back to the Razor Crest. When she awoke, she saw that the sleep cycle had lasted about ten hours. She didn’t feel like cooking right now, instead she re-animated a salad from carbonite freezing and a couple of pieces of dried fruit. It tasted just fine to her and just as filling.

She thought for a moment and Felt that the crew was for the most part awake. About a fourth were deep asleep. Contemplating the sonic shower, she decided that a workout and shower could wait. She was going to check on some things – including the route and see if there were some shortcuts that they could take. Places like this – on the Outer Rim and far away from the main hyperspace lanes – were difficult to navigate.

The two weeks that were the original time calculated would take the Star Destroyer out of the way, on an old Imperial route, not on smuggler or bounty hunter routes. She had halved the time when talking to the crew, because the routes she was going to input into the Destroyer’s databases were going to be along the lines of what she would typically use. When she entered the command center, the droids were still maneuvering the consoles. Going over to the navigation systems, she started plugging in coordinates that would allow the droids to find the “underground” routes. This was where things got _interesting._

These coordinates had been given to her by the Jawas when the contract had lasted for over three years. It had cost her some, but occasionally those coordinates were worth their weight in _beskar._ Those coordinates actually cut the journey down to four days. This would be a good thing, even if it severely cut down on the time the crew had to recover. It would also make things easier in the long run. Not many people would think it, but the Jawas were the best scavengers in the galaxy. They didn’t waste anything, not even useless data. That made her think for a moment and near slap herself in the head. ‘ _I should have the contract expanded upon so that I could ask the Jawas to pass on news – even rumors of Mandalorians. They would be perfect spies. No one really looks at them as anything other than little thieves. I just got to figure out how to make that happen…maybe when the tribes meet on their version of Swap-And-Greet on Tatooine. But how to make it so that it won’t cost me too much…The Jawas might even be persuaded to make contact with other Mandalorians, pass on news on how to reach out to me…’_

Din shook herself and went to find the weapons arsenal. She could think about that later. Right now, with the journey now to last only four days, instead of a week, she needed to move and plan for the battle ahead. She found the arsenal not ten minutes later. Needless to say, there was some crappy weapons that made her want to just throw them into the incinerator along with those bedamned collars, but her near-instinctive need to reuse and modify let her see the possibilities she could put those near useless weapons to some actual use.

She started to sort the armor pieces next. Then an idea struck her. Looking around, Din found the transporting crates and began to load some of the more sturdier chest pieces into the crates. She had about a dozen when she gathered up some of the near-useless weapons and then added the last piece of her collection. Sticking the remotes for the crates into her pocket, she started for the living quarters. She would have to see if any of the crew would like to help with this wild idea of hers.

_~ POV Change ~ {Crew Member}_

When he had woken up, at first, he hadn’t remembered what had happened. It had taken a few moments for his memory to catch up to him. When it did, however, the tears streamed down his face. He was free. He might have mistaken it for a dream, but the marks on his back still stung a bit. The bacta wrap that was around his bruised and semi-cracked ribs made it difficult to move his torso. Also, the fact that the horrible, choking collar that would burn him was gone.

He was free. He had been freed by a Mandalorian. The Mandalorian was plotting a course to get his family. He had missed his wife and kids. He knew that he wasn’t fit for battle, but that didn’t matter.

It also didn’t matter if there four-thousand or forty-thousand between him and his family. They didn’t have a Star Destroyer that could land on a planet. They didn’t have a Mandalorian on their side. That fact was enough to make him hope and believe. Mandos were the best fighters in the galaxy. He had heard whispers that Mandalorians were so good, they could fight on an equal footing as Jedi. That that was the real reason why the Empire had sought them out to either win over or destroy.

He knew that he needed to get up, but the flood of emotions going through his heart were making him gasp with sobs. He was so loud that he didn’t hear the door open with a hiss. He didn’t hear the approach, so he started when he felt a touch on his shoulder. He looked over to see PC-530SD – an elderly female Ugnaught – looking down at him with an understanding look mixed with concern. She was worried about him and understood what he was going through. But he needed to stop hyperventilating. He tried to take deep breaths, trying to slow his breathing. It took a while, but eventually he managed to get it under control.

PC-530SD helped him off the bunk and on his feet. They both left the bunk-barracks and entered the mess, to find that others were congregating there. There was a mixing between species now; not truly separated for eating now because of the officers not wanting there to be real communication and understanding between races no longer being on the Star Destroyer, the _Punisher._ It had been renamed that, he recalled, when the Imperials had made prisoners and slaves the crew with the threat of what would happen to them and their families to keep them in line.

He near collapsed onto the bench next to another human, PC-466SD – if he remembered right. PC-466SD looked up at him from his plate of rations. They didn’t look appetizing, but then he could barely remember his own name and that of his children and wife; let alone what real food looked like. PC-466SD made a kind of quirking movement with his lips and went back to his food. It would take time for it to really get through to them that they were free and their families would be joining them.

The door leading to the rest of the ship opened. Those who saw who was at the door, scrambled to their feet. He looked over and did the same. The Mandalorian was striding through the door. There were multiple crates – four – following him. He had just passed the first table, when he paused and looked down at table. The crew member actually held up a plate of rations to the Mando. The Mando looked at it, then at the crew member and shook his head. He looked out to where everyone was now standing, even those who probably shouldn’t have been.

“At Ease,” the voice was just as it was the last time, they all had heard it. Strong, sure and implacable, but somehow not terrifying. They all sat, almost in unison. The Mando – who had introduced himself as the Ghost Mandalorian, he remembered – went to the crew members who had tried to cook for everyone. He could barely see from where he was, but it looked to him like they were trembling. “Have you eaten?” the question carried throughout the room. Most shook their heads. “Serve yourselves.”

The Mando actually got up on a ledge that was built into the wall. How he did it, the crew didn’t know. One moment he was on the floor with the rest of them, the next moment he was standing on a ledge about ten feet above them. He sat up there on that ledge, his legs hanging down and slightly swinging; starting to fiddle with something in the crates. “I will give you some updated information on the situation as you eat.”

The crew – that had been cooking – dished up the remains of the rations they had made and brought it all over to the tables. They placed all the dishes on the closest one to the kitchens and began to pass the plates down. Most of everyone had already gotten a plate. He got one now, as did PC-530SD and they both obeyed the Mando’s order to start eating. The cook/servers were also starting to eat.

That was when the Mando looked out at them all. “I told you the last time you were all here, that it would take a week to get there. That is no longer the case.” His heart sunk, how far back had there been a delay? How much time did they lose? How – The Mando was continuing, “According to the Imperial calculations, if we stayed with those coordinates, we wouldn’t be getting there for another week. However, we are not using the Imperial route. We are actually flying on a route known only to certain people. It has shaved off a substantial amount of time. Our arrival time should be within the next four days, instead.” The breath that had become trapped in his lungs, suddenly found the way out again. By the exhales and inhales coming from around him, he thought that he wasn’t the only one who forgot to breathe. The Mando wasn’t done though.

“According to the former Commander of this Star Destroyer, you have been on this _mission_ since a time about two months before the Emperor was killed at Endor. That’s been about three years now. I know that some of this crew has already died, overworked and underfed; tortured, and one or two out and out murdered.” The crew flinched at the memories. There had been a reason why the “keys” had stayed with the Imperial Captain and they had never tried to remove the collars themselves. They had seen the fail-safes. “That time is over. In the next four days, you will need to recover fast. You won’t be back at full strength, not by any standard. However, you are all capable of thinking. Some of you are engineers or mechanics no doubt. Please raise your hand if you are.”

Hands – a full four dozen or so – rose with varying degrees of enthusiasm. The Mandalorian looked at them and said, “I have some weapon and armor parts that I would like you to go over with me. I don’t know what kind of shots you all are, but the blasters on this ship are mostly junk. I would like to see if there can’t be some kind of shield generator that can cover a small number of people in a small area so that anyone who tries to shoot them, won’t be able to. A kind of defense against blasters that would be portable and able to be carried. Sort of like the old Separatist Destroyers, only on people. Think you all can manage that?” The Mando looked at them all, scanning their faces. He didn’t know about anyone else, but this Mando was going ever higher in his mind.

The Mandalorian had sped up the time to when they could see their families again; made it so that they could be reunited all the faster and while he had asked them to fight with him against the Imperials, it was no more nor less than what several of them wanted to do anyway. Now, he was asking if there was a way for shield generators to be made portable for people to carry around so that they could be protected when they went to get their families from inside the Academy.

When they had for the most part finished eating, the Mandalorian spoke up again, “I would have just dumped the collars into the incinerator without ceremony last waking cycle, but it occurred to me that you were the ones who wore them. Perhaps, you would feel better if you chucked the things in instead.” The crew member didn’t know about anyone else, but this Mandalorian had better stop this soon; or he would be finding himself being worshiped like a god. It was almost too much for him to handle.

The Ghost Mandalorian jumped down from his perch and straightened from the crouch he had landed in. “Well?” he seemed to demand, “Are you going to sit there looking at me like a bunch of nerf-herders; or are you going to do something useful?” The question was the spark that lit a fire under them. All scrambled to their feet and got to work.

**[Four Days Later] {AN: I am skipping the journey, because it adds nothing to the story just some extra words. Summed up: they ate, slept, healed and worked on the projects. The droids kept the ship going. The organic crew celebrated the destruction of the collars. Din worked out in private, not letting anyone really see her except at meals, and while working on projects. BTW: still in Crew Member’s POV.}**

When the Star Destroyer, exited hyperspace, the crew was ready. They had been fed and had healed as well as they could. They had managed to cobble together ten shield generators that would hopefully help them get inside the compound without being shot down. The Mandalorian had made it so that there would be ten groups, each with twenty people, all armed and armored to the teeth. The armor was all painted so that it was easy to tell on sight who was the real Trooper. While the armor had been modified to the point of not being recognizable as Imperial Stormtrooper’s people’s eyes generally saw the color white first, not details. So, painted the armor was. They weren’t all the same color though. Most would say that they looked rather like mismatched tie-dye, but hey old trooper armor. They didn’t feel very respectful about the stuff.

The Mandalorian had given one last speech and had even played a song over the intercom before it. It was a martial song. No one had truly understood what it was saying, only that it sounded like hundreds of men singing, chanting as they marched to fight. It got their blood pumping and made them want to bare their teeth in feral snarls. “The song you just heard is called the _Vode An_ ,” the Mandalorian’s voice followed that song, “It used to be sung every time a group of Mandalorians would go forth to battle. During the Clone Wars, some of the original troops were known to sing this. It translates to _Brothers All_ and is a salute to each other. A rallying cry to show each other and our enemies that we will come out victorious and they will burn in the flames as they deserve. That they will fall to us and will not see another sunrise. Their Twilight is here! Now, my comrades, it is time we toss them into the Night!”

The Razor Crest left the hangar and blasted away to make a surprise attack from another angle on the Academy. Everyone was eager. The strongest two-hundred of the crew were the ones that would be actually entering the Academy, the others would be manning the Star Destroyer’s guns and getting everything ready for the families to come on board with them. Some of the crew couldn’t participate, the Mandalorian had ordered them to stay out of the fight. Mando had stated something along the lines of anyone that had broken ribs or was too bad off would be a liability and would probably become a fatality. And those were something that the Mando wanted to have for the Imps, not for them.

The alarm blared throughout the ship, letting everyone know that they were now beginning to land. It was during the night cycle planet-side. The first target that was shot and destroyed was the communications and landing dock. While some were worried that their family members might be in those locations, the Mandalorian had reassured them. The Imps wouldn’t have prisoners there, too easy for such to escape with a ship or send out a call for help. No, the prisoners would be locked in the compound itself, and that was not to be fired upon; to avoid friendly fire.

When the Star Destroyer had landed, the two-hundred dropped out of the ship on modified land speeders, heading for the compound itself. They blew a hole straight through the door and began to split up when they out inside.

While his ribs were still a little tender, they weren’t broken or cracked anymore and he was on point. He was working on the farthest group, the group making their way to the command center. His group was supposed to meet the Ghost there.

As he approached the rendezvous, he could hear screaming, he just didn’t quite understand at first. Then when he turned the corner, he saw; it was the Mandalorian. It was poetry in motion. It was breathtakingly terrifying. It called to mind the song that still echoed in his mind, like some kind of prayer to some nameless Gods from the far reaches of the past.

_Kote!_

Mandalorian was at the far end of the hall, the group he was with was on the side farthest away from the storm troopers. The overhead lights were flickering, almost like the buildings heart rate, giving the hallway the lighting straight out of a nightmare.

_Kandosii sa ka’rta, Vode an._

The smell was blood with an undertone of ozone, no doubt from the multiple blaster shots. The sounds were like an orchestra of the battlefield, the wind section provided by the screams of doomed men; the drums section was provided by the blasters being shot, the pounding of running feet and the distant boom of shells and explosions.

_Coruscanta a’den mhi, Vode an._

It was frightening to see, but the Mandalorian - the one that introduced themselves as the Ghost - was proving his name. It didn’t seem to matter how many blaster bolts there were, they seem to either miss him entirely or go through him without seeming to harm him.

_Bal kote, darasuum kote,_

The song of the battlefield was overlaid by the song that the Ghost had played. _‘Is this what he feels?_ ’ He thought dazedly, as his group stumbled after the Mando, _‘is this how his people felt, when they went to battle together? I wonder how it would feel,’_ he continued to think slower than normal, as the Mando seemed to cut down the last troopers in sight; turned and gestured at them to follow him down another hall, ‘ _if he actually had a group of his own with him now rather than a bunch of untrained reinforcements. What would this be like if there were just one more?_ ’

_Jorso’ran kando a tome._

The group followed after the Mandalorian, keeping a look out for anymore troopers. The hallway wasn’t as long as the Star Destroyer that they had arrived on, but it felt like five times the length of the vessel as the group tried to catch up with the Mando.

_Sa kyr’am nau tracyn kad, Vode an._

It was kind of difficult, they kept having to step gingerly over the bodies of storm troopers. Some rather nastily dispatched. He wondered how the Mando had done it. The floor was probably not that bloody-red before the Mando had decided to redecorate with a rather iron-based paint that did nothing for the décor.

_Kandosii sa ka’rta, Vode an._

He blinked and from the look on some of the others’ faces, they were rather sick with nerves. He wondered if their senses of humor were as strange as his was these days. But that was neither here nor there at the moment. He needed to follow the blood trail the Ghost was leaving.

_Coruscanta a’den mhi, Vode an._

The group caught up to the Mando about two intersections later, where there was a T-junction and five doors. Five doors that the Ghost looked at and went to the one farthest on the left. Opening it, but at the side – not actually standing in the doorway; he managed to avoid death that way as many blaster bolts came pouring out of the room.

_Bal…_

A tossed object later and the blaster bolts stop and a fireball explodes out into the hall. Making the air and the structure itself shake. He shook his head in wonder as the Ghost glanced in and then went in. Their group followed after. Three of them whimpered. He wasn’t sure that he wasn’t one of the ones who had made a sound.

_Motir ca’tra nau tracinya._

The tossed object must have been some kind of bomb that targeted organic material only, because while the installations were intact and functioning, the less said about the former operators of the machinery the better. The Ghost was already at the main console, typing away at some kind of locking system. A moment later, the Mando turned to them.

_Gra’tua cuun hett su dralshy’a_

“To the right, go straight for three intersecting corridors and at the fourth there will be a ramp curving to the right and down. Take that ramp down to the base’s sublevel. Take this,” the Ghost barked, tossing a series of cylinder codes. “These will unlock all the holding cells on every block. There is no one here that is truly deserving of prison.

_Aruetyc runi solus cet o’r_

He caught the code cylinders as the Mandalorian keyed in a string of numbers “5664-5483-843-367473” and then added a secondary string “69-74327”. Turning away from the console, the Mando said, “Well, get going!” Before rushing out of the room, dripping red blade held close to their body. He turned to the others. As one, they hurried after the bloody sword wielder.

_Motir ca’tra nau tracinya._

A squad in paint splattered armor came barreling around the corner that the Mandalorian was about to pass by only to stumble after the barked order of “Get your _shebs_ in gear and move with purpose!” that trailed after the now near-flying specter as the Mandalorian vanished round a corner just up ahead. The group that had just come into sight looked torn, between following the Mandalorian or going with the group that he was a part of. He jogged after the Mandalorian and peered after that terrifying being.

_Gra’tua cuun hett su dralshy’a._

He quickly continued to bypass that hallway and gestured to his fellows to hurry along. Both groups had to take a look at what he had when they jogged to meet him. They, too, saw the Mandalorian finishing up with cutting through a squad of stormtroopers and already hurrying down the hallway again. Turning to follow him, both the groups went in the direction that the Ghost had said to go.

_Aruetyc runi trattok’o._

With code cylinders in hand, he ran down the corridor and tripped over his own feet at the turn for the ramp. And no matter how much he wanted to deny it, he did a very good impression of an old-fashion Driodika; rolling all the way down the ramp until he was forcefully stopped by the energy shield at the bottom of the ramp. He could hear someone – several someone’s – making noises of amusement at his expense. He didn’t care though; he was already scrambling to feet. His blaster – a piece of junk according to the Ghost – came up and it was almost muscle memory – despite it being only four days of training and full rations – shot the idiot trooper that stood between him and where he wanted to go. He rushed forward as the trooper fell and the others finished coming down the ramp.

_Sa kyr’am nau tracyn kad,_

Going over to the dead trooper, he saw that there was a control panel. Taking the code cylinders, he pressed them all to the control panel and prayed. A few heartbeats that seemed to echo in his ears and last triple the time they should, the energy shields deactivated, all of them. Somewhere, on this sub-level, was his wife and kids. He trembled as he dropped the code cylinders and called out for them. His voice cracking, but loud. His and dozens of other voices calling out names and hearing the gasps and choked answering calls from people they had not seen for so many years. On trembling legs, he tripped forward, still calling.

**_Vode an!_ **

_~ POV Change ~ {Din Djarrin}_

_‘There are some things,’_ Din thought to herself, ‘ _There are some things in this galaxy that I can do without.’_ Slicing through the troopers that stood between her charges and the best exit, she twisted around and jumped over the last pile of troopers that were stupid enough to get in her near vicinity. Tossing the small grenade almost negligibly behind her as she turned around the corner to go back for her charges; Din started typing away at her com.

Looking at the display in her HUD, she noticed that all the teams that were made up of her charges were alone in the compound except for a mass of bodies in the sub-level that served as the cells for the “students”. Smirking, she scrolled through the database she now was hooked up to. Looking at the information, Din knew she would be helping her soon to be ex-charges with loading their surviving family onto the old Star Destroyer. Pausing as the grenade blew out the exit and made it significantly easier to get back to the ship, Din thought what would the ship be renamed to.

_‘Something that would be appropriate, but short,’_ she thought as she continued to make her way towards her destination, ‘ _something to serve as a signal to other Mandalorians and as a warning to our enemies.’_ Din continued to ponder about the name of the Star Destroyer when she arrived at the ramp, to find that her charges were already helping their loved ones come out of the sublevel and clinging to one another; sobbing and embracing and kissing and – she tilted her head as she watched one of her chargers letting a woman – she hoped that was his wife – near strip him.

‘ _She looks torn between checking up on his physical health or starting something no child should see,’_ mentally chuckling at the pair, she didn’t wait for them to notice her presence. She cleared her throat pointedly. To her hidden amusement, near everyone jumped. “Now that I have your attention,” she drawled.

Some looked shamefaced as they stopped their previous activities, but she noticed with approval that no one distanced themselves from their loved ones. ‘ _Good.’_ Pointing to the now-permanent exit that led to the outer world, she finished, “I would recommend that the reunions occur over ample medical supplies and rations on the ship. If you would?”

Without waiting for a response, Din walked to the far end of the corridor and following the map now displayed in her HUD, walked to the Storage Area. There would be supplies there to help her charges on their way back to the Core. As she did so, she heard the conversations starting up behind her. No doubt asking who she was, but at the moment she could care less.

A couple minutes later, she found the Storage Area and walking inside Din saw that there were several droids that were now beeping at her. Her distaste warred with practicality: shoot the damn things or use them to put the supplies on the ship? Decisions, decisions. In the end, she decided not to tax the poor victims of this _Academy_ and her charges – who no doubt will have a collective adrenaline crash soon enough – and ordered the droids to take all supplies to the Star Destroyer. Grabbing a hover-train remote, Din ordered the droids to put any pressurized poison containers on the cart and at least four data-blocks on it as she perused the inventory list.

Keeping one eye trained on the droids as they worked, she continued to peruse the inventory list. There was plenty there for her charges to use: food, medical supplies, clothing and such; but there was something that was raising an alert in her mind. Looking closely, Din wondered what was making her think that something was wrong with what she had found. But try as she might, she couldn’t figure it out. Mentally filing the thought that she would need to see this with the rest of her notes, Din noticed that the hover train now had several crates full of what she assumed were pressurized poison and eight data-blocks on her hover train. Walking over, she made a quick estimate of how much poison she had here. ‘ _Enough,’_ Din thought with satisfaction, ‘ _Definitely enough.’_

Din took the hover train and herself out of the Storage Area and made her way back to the landing zone of the ship with her Razor Crest stored inside. Walking, her thoughts went back to what she could name the Star Destroyer. _Punisher_ sounded too _Imperial_ for her tastes, though in the end the crew and she did deliver punishment upon the Imps that had continued their deplorable treatment of their prisoners, even after the fall of the Empire. Thinking upon it still, she exited the facility to see that the sun of this system was just breaking over the horizon.

It highlighted the ship that most of the galaxy would see as a symbol for the evil of the Empire and all it’s former might. Din stiffened as a sense of _other_ came over her vision and she Saw. Saw what this particular Star Destroyer – heavily modified – as it defended against pirate scum and slaving bastards. Din blinked and the _other_ dissipated. She smirked to herself and continued on her way up the ship. She had the perfect name.

_~ POV Change ~ {Crew Member}_

He saw the Mandalorian exit out of the remains of the facility with a hover-train full of supplies of some kind. He had only just helped put away a crate that had been full of rations, his baby girl clutching at his calf and his three not-so little boys staying within reach of him and their mother, who had their two youngest – two more little girls, children he had never met thanks to the Imps – wrapped up in a carrier sling. Most of the families were doing as his was, staying within arm’s reach – if not closer. He wasn’t the only one who stopped and straightened at the Mandalorian’s appearance.

The light from the newly risen sun gilded the armor and made the Mandalorian look like some legendary warrior who had just left a battlefield, still straight and tall. He felt as his little girls’ hands tightened on his pants as she no doubt watched the Mandalorian.

**_ …to be continued… _ **

5664-5483-843-367473 ~ “Cell Keypad” for “Long Live the Empire”

69-74327 ~ “Cell Keypad” for “My Shebs”

Author’s Notes: I apologize for the semi-cliffhanger, but the chapter got a little too big for me to put it in one chapter. This seemed like an okay stopping point for now. But fear not! The next chapter should be ready by November 22nd. Hopefully…


End file.
